Broken
by Aeryn Phoenix
Summary: Based on the NWN modules A Dance with Rogues Part One and Two. A short-ish ficlet, Vico/PC, some dark humor, dark subject matter, explores the relationship between two evil characters. Complete.
1. Burned

**A/N** (soooo long and rambling, forgive me): This is a one shot (that is rapidly turning into a two or three shot...stupid muse) that is based on the NWN module _A Dance with Rogues_. I recently began playing through these mods again, and I was very pleasantly surprised to see so much new/slightly altered stuff from the first time I played them ages ago. For whatever reason, I decided to play an evil character, and I absolutely loved it. Yay mental problems. If you have never played_ A Dance with Rogues_, you might still be able to follow the story for the most part, but there's a boat load of spoilers all over this thing. Consider yourself warned.

Anyway, the character in the story below probably needs a little introduction. Her name is Rynn although it's not mentioned in this story, and she is (eventually) a chaotic evil rogue/sorceress (if this was NWN2, she'd be an arcane trickster), petite build (ie, low con and str), mousy brown hair, green eyes, very good at sneaking and setting magically enhanced traps but not so much good in a stand up fight. She doesn't start out evil, more neutral than anything else, but her, uh..."fall from grace" is a gradual progression of the choices she makes based on the situations she finds herself forced into. She doesn't trust men, or most anyone for that matter, but she does trust and respect Master Nathan almost without reserve because he's worked so hard to protect her. When Vico "rescues" her from the castle, she tries to fight him off, to the point where he has to carry her unconscious butt back to the Bear Pit. Since that night, she's never mentioned to anyone what happened between them (although many people know the truth) and tries her best to pretend like it never happened. Now this particular story takes place right after being rescued from the Dhorn prison where Arto threatens to torture the princess. My twisted mind decided that threatening her wasn't enough. That'll make sense soon enough. Oh, and yes Vico is wearing leathers instead of plate (I know someone is going to point that out...) because I figure unless he's on a mission, who would want to walk around all the time in full armor?

**Warning**: Rated M for language and adult themes. I couldn't imagine writing a story that features Vico in any way without a ton of foul language. It's not normally my habit to put a lot of cussing in because I personally think it can take away from the writing, but this story without the obscenities just didn't do it for me.

**Disclaimer**: I in no way claim ownership of any person, place or thing in the following story. _A Dance with Rogues_ is owned by the lovely Valine, and all credit goes to her for everything here. I just wanted to play with her creation for a while. :)

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**Burned**

I'd never been burned before. Well, unless a singe from a long-wicked candle or a splash of bubbling grease from a hot pan counts as a "burn." Those things could never compare to the mind-numbing agony – not to mention the stench…I would never forget that smell – of living flesh being purposely roasted by a red-hot iron rod.

Pain flared up the right side of my back as I hauled my armor up over my head, my breath hissing between my teeth as I fought back the urge to cry out. Swaying on my feet, I braced myself against the wall as black spots washed over my vision, but I managed to ride out the pain without losing consciousness this time.

I tried to twist my neck around to look at the damage done to my back, but all I could see was the raw, blackened edge of skin on the ridge of my shoulder. With a sigh, I stared down at my filthy hands, the blood stains around my chipped fingernails, and wondered idly if I smelled as bad as I felt. Though I knew I hadn't been there but a day at most, I'd had enough of that Dhorn prison to last a lifetime.

The steaming bath across the room from me beckoned, promising to sooth my aching muscles and wash away the grime of that foul cell, but I was slow to finish undressing. This was going to hurt like hell, and I wasn't ashamed to admit that I was scared of the pain. There was also something strange about being back in my old "room" at the Bear Pit, but I was worried that my little apartment might have been compromised. Nathan had promised to send someone to check it out.

Chella, the sweet woman that she was, had taken one look at me when I'd come down the stairs and insisted that she draw me a bath. I knew better than to argue. Some days I wondered if she was the only good thing left in this world.

I took a deep breath to steel myself and neatly piled my gear beside the bath, my weapons within arm's reach, and eased myself into the water. The scrapes and bruises across my body protested, but within moments the sting had faded and my body relaxed in the warmth of the water. Still, I could not bring myself to lay back and clean the burn, telling myself to wait until the water was cooler before attempting such a thing.

As I washed the rest of me with a rough but clean cloth, my mind wandered. Nathan was worried, and that made me worry all the more. The Dhorn had grown bold, more so than usual it seemed, as was proven by my sudden arrest, and on false charges at that. It made my blood boil to be accused of being a whore, especially considering the rather long list of other crimes I'd actually committed. Of course, Arto had no proof of either my real crimes or the false charges, but that made little difference to him.

Arto Benthur. I'd seen the man less than half a dozen times, yet I'd already sworn to myself that he would die by my hands, and it would be a slow death at that. He made murderers like me look like saints with his lies and twisted beliefs, his fanaticism that bordered on madness. It was strange and somewhat worrying to me to remember that his eyes were sane and clear, not the eyes of the raving zealot he seemed to be, and it made me wonder all over again what his true motivations were.

Raised voices outside the door brought me out of my thoughts. "Aye, you'll leave that girl alone you scoundrel, or I'll have Nathan down here faster than you can blink!" Chella practically shrieked, and I almost smiled as I pictured her waving her massive rolling pin at whoever had drawn her ire.

"Oh, don't be like that, Chella," a deep, caustic voice soothed. The familiar sound made my eyes narrow as I instinctively drew my knees up to my chest to cover myself, ignoring the pain that flared up my back at the movement, and I scowled at the closed door to the kitchens. He was the _last_ person I wanted to see right then. "I just want to check on our little birdie. Heard she let herself get captured by the Dhorn, _and_ managed to get Tarleth killed too. Thought I should congratulate her."

Chella's voice was dramatically lower as she responded, but I could still hear her angry words. "Shut your mouth, Vico! None of this was her fault, she didn't go asking for it!"

I heard Vico snort, then the door opened a sliver but it stopped and shook uncertainly as if it were being tugged back and forth. "It's okay, Chella," I called out, making sure I was as covered as possible in the bathtub. Not that it mattered – Vico always looked at me as if I was naked, even fully clothed. Maybe that's why the idea of him there didn't bother me so much. Or maybe I just wanted to prove that I wasn't afraid of him. "Just let him say his peace so he can go."

The portly woman popped her head inside the door and frowned at me, her eyes searching my face as if she could see how I was really feeling. She'd never been too good at reading me…if she was she would have removed my weapons from the room. "Fine," she snapped, moving aside to glare at the man in black leathers as he slid through the doorway. "I'll be right outside if you need me, sweetie."

I felt myself nod, but my eyes were fixed on the scruffy killer eyeing me with a lecherous smirk on his handsome face. "Well, birdie," he murmured as soon as the door was shut, "here I thought you were getting smarter. Do you always invite men in during bath time?"

I shrugged, surprising myself with how calm I felt. "I didn't invite you – you invited yourself. Besides, I'm far from helpless, Vico." With my knees still pulled up to my chest, I rested my hands on the edge of the tub and let the newfound _power_ flow through my fingers. Pale fire flickered across the back of my knuckles, and I lifted my hands in front of my eyes, caressing the flames as they danced harmlessly over my skin. "Care to test me?"

"Cute trick," Vico drawled, looking completely unimpressed.

So much for intimidation. Sighing, I extinguished the fire and asked impatiently, "What do you want?"

"I really thought you were learning, birdie." He started to pace a little in the small room. "You took down Rick Carr like nothing – his own men didn't even know he was dead until the next day. Jacia told me you pulled off some jobs for her too, not an easy thing to do." He looked disgusted as he shook his head at me. "But then you went and just let the Dhorn have you."

"Hardly."

"Don't give me that shit. How long had they been following you? Days? Weeks? And you never noticed? They knew _exactly_ where to find you."

"They ambushed me, Vico," I said in a bored voice as I looked away and resumed rubbing the cloth over my arms. "Since you have all the answers, tell me: what could I have done differently, hmm?"

"Oh, I don't know…maybe try not getting caught?" I was more surprised than I would ever let on when I looked up and saw real annoyance written across his face. Was he worried about me, or just worried that I'd rat out the family? "Or if you do, show some spine and fight back."

"Thank you for the advice," I answered coldly. "I'll try to remember that the next time I'm knocked unconscious and dragged back to Dhorn headquarters."

"There better not be a next time. This bullshit got a perfectly good member of this family killed trying to save you, little princess. Next time there might not be someone there to die for you."

"I didn't ask her to die for me!" I snarled, the words fading to a pained grunt as I sat forward, stretching open the burn scabs on my back. I relaxed my posture and met his eyes, but he'd noticed my discomfort and was already moving around the back of the tub.

His expression was utterly blank as his gaze drifted over my ravaged skin, but his eyes at that moment…they terrified me. He stared at me for nearly a minute, a very long minute, before he spoke. "The Dhorn tortured you," he stated flatly, an odd rough quality to his tone.

"No," I responded, watching his face carefully. "This wasn't torture. This was to show me what my torture would feel like if I didn't comply." He looked up into my eyes, his face still expressionless, but something about his gaze compelled me to explain. After a brief description of what Arto had said was in store for me, I concluded, "And then he asked me if I'd ever felt 'the kiss of red hot metal against my flesh'."

"And you were stupid enough to answer?" Vico sneered.

"I was stupid enough not to," I shot back. "The bastard said I couldn't really appreciate what was in store for me without a taste…." I swallowed the bitter bile that rose in the back of my throat as I remembered with shame how I'd screamed as the iron rod had rolled upward across my back, searing and peeling off layers of my flesh.

I watched Vico's jaw work as he studied my face for another moment, then he nudged my small pack with the toe of his boot. "Take a healing potion," he ordered.

"Gee, I never thought of that, jackass," I snapped, angered by the authority in his tone, but he just stared at me expectantly as if he hadn't heard me speak. "I will after I clean it. I don't want it to scar."

Vico snorted, his lip curled as he shook his head. "Still the vain little princess. Don't worry, birdie, that pretty skin of yours won't last long anyway if you keep living this life."

"It's not vanity, idiot. Scars are noticeable, especially one this size. If someone saw it, they might be able to identify me. We wouldn't want that, now would we?"

If I didn't know him better, I'd swear there was something close to admiration on his face as he nodded once slowly. "Fine," he said gruffly as he fiddled with one of the pouches on his belt. "Sit forward."

"What the hell are you doing?" I demanded and leaned as far away from him as I could as he crouched behind the tub, some small jar with a pale ointment inside open in his hand.

"Just relax, little birdie," he murmured with a mocking smirk. "It'll only hurt for a second."

"Don't you _dare_ touch me!" The heated, hate-filled hiss tore from my lips before I could stop the words, words fueled by harsh, cruel memories of his hands on my skin. A dark look crossed Vico's face as he spotted the momentary terror in my eyes, but it was gone so quickly that I couldn't be sure what he was thinking.

His voice was soft, almost gentle in a way I'd never have imagined could come from him as he assured me, "I'm _not_ going to hurt you. This will kill any infections in the wound and numb the skin so you can clean it without pain. Trust me, I use it all the time."

I glared and held my hand out to him. "I'll do it myself," I insisted, still nervous that he was so close to me, and my own fear infuriated me. How _dare_ he make me feel this way.

"You can't even see it," he pointed out, falling back to his usual less-than-kind tone. "Don't be such a baby. Now hold still."

Before I could protest, his callused fingers began smoothing the pungent ointment over my charred skin. Biting back a gasp of pain, I focused my energy on not crying out or flinching away from his surprisingly gentle touch. It was only a few seconds before I felt the area begin to grow numb, just as he'd said it would, and the relief of being momentarily free of pain left me a little lightheaded.

I relaxed and let a small sigh slip out as he attentively covered every inch of my damaged skin with the stinky miracle slime. I still felt nervous despite the fact that he wasn't even bothering to ogle me while he went about his task. I hadn't even realized I was absently twisting the ring on my right hand until he asked, "Where did you get that?"

Surprised, I lifted my hand to study the black pearl set in the rather plain silver band, aware that Vico's hand had paused on my back as he looked at the ring over my shoulder. "It was…a gift," I answered as a slow, malicious smile curved my lips.

"Right," Vico drawled sarcastically. "You mean you stole it."

I shrugged and let my hand fall down along the outside of the tub. "Think what you want."

Vico didn't respond, but he removed his hand from my back and I assumed he'd finished doctoring me up. Still crouched, he shifted his weight so that he was more beside me than behind me and dipped his fingers into the bath water to wash off the ointment. His hand was a bare inch away from my naked breast, and an insolent smile answered my scowl. "Need helping washing?" he purred wickedly.

"Like I would ever let you touch me again," I snarled, trying my best to hold back the icy rage that reared up in me. I hated, _hated_ that he could make me switch gears so quickly, and not for the first time in the last few months I thought about killing him.

His smiled widened to a dark chuckle and he had the audacity to trail his dripping fingers up my bare arm. Somehow I managed not to flinch at the feather-light contact, but my teeth were grinding together audibly as he taunted, "You…just…did."

"Fuck you."

Again he chuckled, but he removed his hand from my shoulder. "Listen, birdie, the past is past. I wanted you, so I took you. Maybe I'm wrong, but you seem like the type of girl who understands that."

I blinked at him, too surprised at first to form a response, but the truth slowly dawned on me. I _did_ understand. Maybe I hadn't when he'd first found me all those months ago, but I sure as hell did now. If someone wasn't strong enough or smart enough to hold on to what was theirs, they didn't deserve to keep it. I'd said something similar to a foolish paladin not long before…he'd looked down his nose at me then, but it was I who was stripping his corpse a few days later. Maybe he should have listened better.

Vico was watching me with this knowing expression behind his eyes, and he seemed to be waiting for me to say something. "You're not wrong," I answered softly, watching him through half-lidded eyes, purposely putting a suggestive tone in my voice. Men are so easily distracted.

Smirking wickedly, Vico leaned closer to me but didn't touch me. "Of course I'm not. Because it feels good to do what you want, doesn't it?"

I think my wide, cruel smile startled him, because there was suddenly suspicion in his eyes. "Let's find out, shall we?"

He hadn't noticed that my hand was still outside tub, hanging right beside his thigh. He hadn't noticed me subtlety rifling through my equipment at his feet. And he certainly hadn't noticed the small dagger in my hand…at least not until it was buried in the thick muscles of his upper thigh. To my credit, I was careful to stab him in a spot that wouldn't likely be fatal…maybe I didn't want him dead after all. Yet.

It took a second for his mind to register the pain, and I kept smiling as he just stared in disbelief at my hand curled around the hilt of the blade buried in his thigh. As his blood began to darken his leathers, he stumbled to his feet beside my tub with a growl of pain, and I let my fingers slip off the weapon as a flood of furious curses flew from his lips. "What the fuck? You crazy bitch!"

I laughed aloud, a twisted joy blossoming in my chest as I threw my head back and let the laughter shake my body. The look on his face was priceless. "Wow, you're right, Vico. That feels _really_ good." He stared down at me in bewilderment, and that just made me laugh harder. "You should probably patch that up," I chuckled, wiping at the tears that had formed in my eyes. "You're bleeding in my bath water."

I lost my composure all over again as his expression turned thunderous, but I sobered quickly when a fiendish grin split his face. "Well, we wouldn't want that now would we, Princess?" Before I could move, he was in the bath with me, fully armed and armored, the dagger still in his leg, water sloshing all over the floor as he pinned me down with his much larger body. I froze in place as his hand caressed the back of my neck, his rough stubble scratching my cheek as he leaned in close to my ear.

He was laughing.

"Crazy bitch," he whispered breathlessly.

And then he was off of me, standing in an expanding puddle of pinkish water as his mocking eyes raked over my now exposed body. The tiny bit of water that hadn't been thrown out of the tub had been turned bright red with his blood, and with a disgusted sound I scrambled out and tugged my towel off the hook. "Idiot," I growled as I covered myself, but not before he got more than an eyeful of my naked form.

He laughed, his dark eyes sparkling with amusement. "It's your own fault, birdie." He paused, wincing only slightly as he jerked the dagger out of his thigh. With an unreadable expression he offered me the wet, bloody blade hilt-first, ignoring the varitable fount of fresh blood pumping down his leg and onto the floor. "I hope you enjoyed your revenge."

I glowered as I accepted the weapon, but an evil grin was soon tugging at the corners of my mouth as I remembered the look on his face when I'd stabbed him. "It did feel good," I admitted with a chuckle. "I'd probably feel even better if I did it again, maybe a slightly more fatal spot…."

"I wouldn't try it," he answered smoothly as he crouched beside my pack and took out a healing potion.

"Hey!" I complained as he stood up and downed the bland liquid in one long draught. "That was my last one, you jackass."

He shrugged and turned his back to me, his hand reaching for the door. "Guess you'll scar after all, huh birdie? Don't get caught again." Without looking back at me, he slipped out the door.

I sighed and scowled at the soaking wet floor and the bloody bath water, vaguely aware of Chella screaming at Vico for dripping water and "is that blood?!" all over her kitchen. He just laughed. It wasn't until then that I noticed the healing potions sitting on the crate behind the bathtub. Confused, I wandered over and picked up one of the three vials. They were stronger, more potent than the one Vico had taken from my pack…and he'd left them there for me. Why?

Chella burst into the room, her face flushed with alarm. "Sweetie, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I muttered, still stunned by Vico's gift. "It's not my blood." The words made me chuckle in spite of myself, and when I looked up at Chella's horrified expression, I almost lost my composure completely again as laughter bubbled up in my chest.

"I'll…get some towels," Chella said carefully, and I nodded in reply as I tried to stifle my giggles. She probably thought I was crazy, or getting there at least, but I didn't care. It felt good to laugh, especially at Vico's expense, but I knew I'd never get close enough to him to repeat the encounter. My eyes drifted back to the healing potions, and I gave them a long calculating stare. He cared enough to leave those for me, which made no sense at all to me, but…perhaps I could get close enough…if I played my hand right.


	2. Bruised

**A/N**: I knew this wouldn't stay a one-shot. I guess technically it's now a series of inter-related one-shots. Don't ask me how many there will be or when the next one will come out because I really have no clue. This one is _much_ darker than the last one. Much, much darker. I blame Rynn for my mental problems - I never had the urge to write about someone so clearly disturbed before, but now I just can't help it. This story starts just after the run in with the gladiators under the arena, while the princess is looking for the spies. It will soon become clear that this was not a pleasant or easy encounter for her. Duh, right? As with the last "chapter" I take some liberties with events, but things mostly follow the flow of the mod.

**Warning**: For brutal torture and language. And for mental problems. Namely mine.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything written here - it's all Valine's work that tickled my muse and demanded some deeper exploration.

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**Bruised**

I paused in the doorway outside the Bear Pit, my eyes scanning the streets nervously for any sign of a Dhorn patrol. Though I didn't see a single soul moving about in the dim moonlight, I quietly murmured under my breath, my hands moving in a slow pattern until the invisibility spell wrapped around me. Feeling safer, I slipped through the shadows down the narrow side alley and back to my tiny apartment.

The building was eerily silent, my key grinding in the lock far too loudly, and I practically collapsed inside the room, closing the door behind me without incident. I trembled there for a moment, my back pressed again the rough wood, then promptly dropped my pack and sprinted toward the bathroom to empty my stomach into the privy.

I wretched so violently that my knees gave out under me, my skin slick with cold sweat as I lay crumpled on the floor shivering. I could still smell them on me, their rancid breath in my face, their rough hands all over me. A wild sob tore out of my throat as I thought insanely that I'd never get the smell off of me. My movements bordered on frantic as I filled the bath with water, my trembling hands sloshing almost as much on the floor as in the basin. A quick spell heated the water to near scalding, and I practically tore my armor and underclothing to shreds as I undressed. Not that there was much left to destroy after their treatment of me.

My skin screamed in protest as I forced myself into the tub, but my mind was lost in a maddening loop of memories, repeating over and over and over again, worse each time. Panicked, I scrubbed my skin raw with a harsh sponge, only stopping when I noticed that I was making myself bleed. Curling up into a tight ball at one end of the tub, I buried my face in my hands and wept.

I'd never let a man close enough to touch me, not since Vico had rescued me from the castle. It had been hard enough to carry out my "mission" with Pia, although by the time things had gotten out of hand I was too drunk to remember anything that happened. Even so, I still resented the bard for it. For days after Master Nathan had taken me in, my dreams had been filled with twisted memories of Vico's knife at my throat, his body pressing me down, the pain, the shame. What those gladiators had done to me was almost enough to wash away any loathing I felt for the dark knight. Almost.

I wasn't sure how long I stayed in the water, my tears cascading down my face in an endless stream of hatred and helpless rage. My stomach ached from the impromptu purging of my dinner and from the raw, hiccuping sobs that shook my small frame. It was long past time that I mourned…I'd never cried like that before, and probably would never cry like that again. I mourned for my parents as well as myself, for the loss of my former life and the destruction of my innocence. I let my agony empty out through my eyes that night, and despite my exhaustion, I felt stronger for the release.

Eventually I sat up and numbly reached for the soap, washing my hair and skin without really thinking about the mundane actions. In fact, I wasn't thinking about anything. Thinking hurt too much. I finally managed to stop sniffling when a voice outside my bathroom door scared the hell out of me.

"Better pull yourself together, birdie." I dove for the dagger that was hidden amid my mess of tattered, filthy gear on the floor, but for some reason he didn't try to come into the room. "We've got a job to finish."

Of course. Master Nathan had said he was going to call in the best for this mission – go figure that the best was Vico. "I-I'll…be out in a moment," I replied unsteadily, cursing at myself internally for the way my voice shook. How long had he been standing there?

There was no reply, but I was fairly certain he was still in my apartment. Stepping out of the tub, I took a towel off the hook and dried my raw skin carefully before wrapping the soft cloth around me. My teeth ground together as I stared down at my wasted gear that still reeked like those disgusting bastards. I didn't even think about what I was about to do as I swept it all up, minus my weapon belt, and holding it away from my body I strode into the main room of my home.

As predicted, Vico was still there, lounging on my couch with my pack propped up beside him. Unlike the last time I'd seen him, he was wearing full plate mail – so much for stabbing him again – and I vaguely wondered how he could sit comfortably wearing that much armor. He was watching me, his face expressionless, but I barely spared him a glance as I dumped the clothing and leathers into my big, metal trash bin. As an afterthought, I moved it away from anything flammable then promptly lit the whole mess on fire with a simple spell.

The leather was old and the spell was potent, so it was not long before there was little left but ash. The foul stench of burning leather filled room, but I felt a small sense of satisfaction, as though I were suddenly back in control. The feeling was an illusion, and I knew it, but I let myself enjoy the moment nonetheless.

"I hope you have another set of armor," Vico commented dryly, but there was something like worry behind the coldness in his eyes as he frowned at me. "You're going to need it." I nodded mutely. "Nathan said you tracked these bastards down on your own. Not bad, birdie."

"I just did what I had to," I murmured quietly. I kept hoping he would leave so I could dress and get ready to go, but his casual posture said he had no such plans.

"Nathan _also_ said you got fucked up pretty bad."

For whatever reason, those words pissed me right off. What the hell was Master Nathan thinking, telling Vico of all people something like that? "What does it matter?" I snapped, moving toward him to snatch up my pack. "I survived, I found the spies, life goes on, right?"

Vico seized my elbow roughly before I could grab the pack and it was all I could do to keep from trying to fight him off. I glared down and saw that his eyes were moving across my neck, examining the dark, finger-shaped bruises above my collarbone, and the raw bite marks lower down above my breasts. His voice was very quiet and filled with anger as he growled, "I told you _not_ to get caught again."

I felt a humorless chuckle rise in my throat even as I glared at him. "We needed that information, asshole. I _let_ myself get caught."

He frowned at that, his eyes now drifting over the shallow bruises on my shoulders and upper arms before he lifted the arm he was still holding to study the bloody furrows on my wrists where the manacles had rubbed my skin away. He did not speak, but lifted a questioning eyebrow at me.

I grinned darkly, wishing desperately that I felt as unscathed as I pretended to be. "Shortly after they realized it was a bad idea to stick anything they valued into my mouth, they decided it would be safer for them if they chained me down."

Vico raised both eyebrows. "At least you fought back."

"Yeah, a lot of good it did me," I sneered, tempted to tell him that my "fighting back" had earned me the strangle marks on my throat.

With a shrug, Vico released my arm and handed me my pack. "They'll be dead soon enough, birdie. Get dressed."

He stood and moved toward my front door, and I was about to head to my bedroom when a thought crossed my mind. "Vico." He paused without turning around. "One of them…a dark-skinned man with braids in his hair…a big, nasty scar on his brow. He's mine."

Vico turned to study me, his eyes cold and calculating, and for a moment I wondered if he was considering asking Nathan to cut me out of this mission, but eventually he answered, "No promises."

I stared at him for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "Fair enough."

As soon as he was gone, I downed a healing potion and watched in my old, scratched mirror as the bruises and bites faded away. Too bad there wasn't something that worked that easily on memories. Then again, would I really want to forget what had been done to me? The stray thought was far too deep for me to allow myself to linger on it. I dressed quickly, pulling on a more caster-friendly cat suit over my underwear before I restocked my pack and belt. Vico and four rough-looking assassins were waiting for me just outside the front entrance to my building.

"You said there's five or six of them, birdie?" Vico asked as I fell into step beside him, aware that at least one of the men behind us was staring at my ass. I hated that stupid cat suit.

"At least," I answered as I combed my hair back with my fingers and twisted it into a tight knot at the nape of my neck. "Not counting the guards, of course."

"They won't be a problem."

I gave him a doubtful look, but stayed silent as we moved smoothly through the streets of Betancuria, avoiding patrols and citizens alike. In my mind, I began turning over what I could remember of the arena layout and the number of guards I'd seen. Since the only entrance I was aware of that wasn't swarming with Dhorn was the damned ventilation shaft I'd slid down the first time, I was desperately wracking my brain to come up with a plan.

We were still several minutes away from the arena and Vico and the other thugs were arguing over who should get the "honor" of going down the shaft first when I spoke up. "I'll go down first."

They all looked at me like I had a death wish, and Vico gave me a mocking sneer as he pointed out, "That didn't exactly work out so great for you last time, did it birdie?"

"I'll go down invisible, idiot," I growled back. "The vent empties into a bedroom, which will be occupied at this time of night, but I shouldn't have any problem staying unnoticed. I can lay a few traps around the door, then draw the gladiators in."

"How exactly do you plan to draw them in?" Vico asked doubtfully.

I eyed him thoughtfully, trying unsuccessfully to hide a smirk. "I'll stab the room's occupant in the thigh. I have some experience with that. I'm sure his bellowing with draw all kinds of attention."

Vico shot me a glare that probably should have terrified me, but I just smiled sweetly and stayed silent the rest of the way. I felt strangely elated that my plan had been accepted. After nearly a year of relying on Master Nathan and the family to provide for me, I was finally able to give something back. What a pity plans never work out exactly the way they're supposed to.

I should have guessed it was his room…not that I'd had much of a chance to muse on my surroundings the first time I'd found myself in the rooms under the arena. When I dropped, silent and invisible onto the floor at the base of the chute, I froze as the sonorous snoring echoed through the chambers. I crept forward and felt my blood turn to ice at the sight of peacefully sleeping gladiator, his dark skin and ratty braids barely discernable in the faint light that shone from under the door.

My dagger was in my hand before I realized I'd reached for it, ready to slit his throat open as he slept. Hunched beside his bed, I warred with myself, with the side of me that shrieked for vengeance and the other side that reasoned that he was needed alive for the moment. He was the alarm, after all, and this was my plan. Besides, I told myself, killing him quickly was more than he deserved. It was with much effort that I resheathed my weapon and turned to set the traps along the doorframe.

When I was satisfied that the traps were as dangerous as I could make them, I whispered as quietly as I could under my breath the words to a spell, relieved as it settled perfectly over the traps. They would make for one hell of an explosion…I hoped. I quickly cast another spell that would protect me from the fiery blast, then smiling grimly to myself, I pulled out my dagger once more and turned back toward the bed. Positioning myself between the vent and the side of the bed farthest from the door, I carefully aimed my blow and thrust firmly down into the sleeping gladiator's thigh.

Everything after that exploded into a blur of screams and fire and fighting. While I had protected myself from the flames of my own trap, I had stupidly forgotten about the simple physics of the situation. I was blown off my feet as two gladiators burst through the door, the force of the explosion sending me slamming onto the wall behind me even as Vico and his men slid down the vent. I was dimly aware of shouting, the smell of burning flesh, and the cold ring of steel clashing together. By the time I regained the bulk of my senses, the three remaining assassins were looting the bodies. The mangled corpse of the forth had been dragged to the wall near me, looking as though he had been trampled underfoot.

"Rise and shine, little birdie," Vico's caustic voice sounded strained as if he were struggling with something. "Uncle Vico got you a present."

Rubbing the back of my throbbing head, I staggered to my feet, but my trivial pains were quickly forgotten as my eyes fell on Vico kneeling on the floor at the end of the bed. Fighting viciously against the dark knight's death grip on his arm was the dark skinned gladiator, bloody and battered, my dagger still buried in his thigh, but very much alive. I couldn't stop smiling as I knelt down in front of the massive man.

"You filthy bitch," he spat at me, bloody spittle flying from his lips in his fury. "I knew I shouldn't have let you leave here alive."

"It's the last mistake you'll ever make," I purred as I reached to unbind my hair, letting it spill around my shoulders as I leaned toward him with the leather band in my hands. He tried to bite me as I attempted to gag him, but a sharp twist of his arm by Vico, accompanied by an oh-so-satisfying crunch of bone prevented him from stopping me. His strangled cry of pain made my smile widen as my fingers grasped the hilt of my dagger, twisting it mercilessly before yanking it from his thigh.

"You should tell your boys to leave," I murmured to Vico, but my eyes never left the gladiator's face. There was fear in his eyes now, and he could read on my face that this would not be a quick death by any means.

Vico didn't say anything, but I heard one of the assassin's cough awkwardly before he said, "Aye, uh…we'll be keepin' watch in the hallway, then."

"Oh, don't be scared," I whispered to the gladiator as he began fighting against Vico's grip once more in earnest in spite of the pain his broken arm must have been giving him. "I'm only here to return the favor, big boy." His breathing turned erratic with panic, his eyes wide as he turned his face from me. "Look at me," I hissed. When he did not comply, my hand shot up, slapping him savagely across the face, my nails leaving bloody furrows in their wake. "I said _look at me_!" Raw hatred twisted his face, mingled with his fear as he finally looked me in the eyes. Oh, yes, he remembered saying those words to me.

I whispered a spell under my breath, delighting in the panic that flared through him again at the words he could not understand, then held my dagger up for him to see. Fire blossomed from my hand and danced across my skin, slowly seeping into the weapon itself. Within seconds the blade began to glow faintly, the intense heat radiating from the small blade in waves. The gladiator winced and groaned in pain as I trailed the searing hot weapon lightly down the skin of his chest, poising it before the pit of his stomach.

"Remember," I murmured seductively, my body tingling with a strange powerful feeling that I'd only felt a few times in the past, but this was so much stronger. "Remember when you are rotting in your own private hell," I slowly began pressing the dagger into his flesh, "that it was I," a strangled scream tore from his throat, but Vico held him fast as he flailed helplessly against the burning agony in his gut, "who sent you there." Only when the dagger was buried to the hilt in his stomach did the smell reach me, and as much as it nauseated me, I only felt the urge to twist the blade deeper, to make him suffer more. It would _never_ be enough.

To my great disappointment, his horrified, muffled shrieks only lasted a few seconds before his eyes rolled back into his head and he lost consciousness. He collapsed onto his side with a thud, and I remained crouched beside him, watching his ragged breathing until Vico's voice startled me back to the present. "He's as good as dead now."

I stared at Vico for a moment, so lost in my own vengeance that I'd almost forgotten that he was there, then looked back at the twitching gladiator with the smoldering hole in his gut. I knew there was no amount of healing spells or potions that could save him, but it would probably be a while before he actually died. "A pity," I sneered as I stood slowly. "How I would have loved to heal him and repeat the procedure. Several times."

I could feel Vico's eyes on me, and when I turned my face to him I found I could not look away. For a fraction of a moment, there was something in his eyes, a look I knew all too well from my encounters with men of all kinds. It was desire. Naked, shameless, passionate desire written so plainly across the typically brutal murderer's face, and I felt a strange and disturbing flood of curiosity, fear and longing at the sight. Even as I gripped the gore-covered dagger tighter, my eyes flitted to his lips and I wondered suddenly what it would feel like to kiss him. What the _hell_ was the matter with me?

But then I blinked and all emotion in his expression was gone, replaced by cold indifference as he shrugged and broke eye contact. "We don't have time for that anyway. You got your revenge, be satisfied."

I crouched again beside the gladiator and quickly cleaned the crusted blood off my weapon with his shirt, though it was as much to regain my composure after the strange look we'd shared. Satisfied? "No," I muttered aloud, staring at the dying man for a few seconds before sheathing my weapon and standing again. I found myself unable to hide a wicked smirk as I walked by Vico toward the hallway. "Apparently I'm not easily satisfied."

Vico snorted and shook his head, but there was amusement in his tone as he pointed out, "We'd better get back to Nathan…and you probably shouldn't mention your sudden fascination with sadism."

I opened my mouth to argue with his description of me, but I remembered the look of longing in his eyes. Like a breadcrumb trail, I could see the hints, some subtle, some blatantly obvious, that would lead me to obtain the perfect revenge upon the one who had started me on this path of death and destruction, the one who had crushed my innocence. A playful smile turned up the corners of my mouth as I gave Vico a furtive glance from the corner of my eye. "I won't tell if you won't," I purred.


	3. Poisoned

**A/N:** I haven't been around for a while due to real life stuff, but I'm hoping to have some calm time to finish this and a few other stories before I get eaten by Christmas. I've decided how I want this story to play out, so there's two more "chapters" after this one and that will wrap it up. This episode takes place as soon as the second mod starts - setting out from Betancuria to track down and rescue Master Nathan. By the way, I haven't had a beta-reader for this story, so feel free to point out any of my mistakes. I'm sure they are numerous.

**Warning:** Language, for the most part.

**Disclaimer:** _A Dance with Rogues_ and all characters belong to Valine - Rynn's mental problems belong to me I suppose.

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**Poisoned**

"I hate boats."

I hadn't even realized I'd said the words aloud until Vico's humorless chuckle rumbled beside me. "What, Daddy never took you sailing as a girl?" he taunted as he mirrored my posture, elbows on the railing as he stared down at the water slowly sliding past.

"Quite the contrary," I replied coolly. "He dragged me out to sea as often as possible. I actually loved when he took me sailing…perhaps that's why I hate it now."

I caught the strange look Vico sent me from the corner of his eye, but when I made no effort to further explain he shrugged like he didn't care and said nothing for a while. The sunset was breathtaking, shimmering across the surface of the water and softening the land with long shadows, yet only the dark knight and I seemed to be playing it any mind. Anden was somewhere on the other side of the ship attempting to make conversation with Pia, and I knew without turning around that she was blithely ignoring his rambling as she no doubt wrote everything that had happened into her journal. This would surely make for an epic tale, if we survived it. The thought felt cold and bitter to me, though Pia's optimism seemed unwavering.

I missed Master Nathan. He would have known what to do, been able to see all angles of the situation and shown us the best way to handle things. Alfons wasn't a bad man, but he seemed exactly like the rest of us – running on emotions, fear, knee-jerk reactions. Master Nathan would never have let himself be ruled like that, and not for the first time in the last year I was fiercely jealous of his ability to rationalize any situation.

Vico shifted beside me, startling me out of my brooding. Something ominous passed across his face as he translated the way I flinched as something personal, but he grinned evilly suddenly. "Don't worry, birdie, I won't push you overboard."

I sighed, my nerves too frayed to pretend like he wasn't irritating me. "If you don't stop being such an ass, you just might find yourself swimming home."

Unfazed, Vico chuckled and looked back over the water. "I bet you'd get off on that. Too bad you need me, huh?"

"I _don't_ need you," I shot back, ignoring the rational voice in the back of my head that said that I most certainly did, if for nothing else than as a meatshield against the Dhorn. "You are _only_ here because Alfons insisted that we needed to work together to save Master Nathan."

"Because you always follow orders, right?" Vico snorted in reply. "Face it, birdie, you'd have been dead long ago without me watching that pretty little backside of yours, and you won't last five minutes against the Dhorn by yourself."

"I'm not by myself!" I snapped and immediately regretted it because I was well aware of the shortcomings of our other companions, as well as Vico's thoughts on both of them. To keep him from spewing forth the retort I knew was waiting behind his lips, I added bitterly, "And your protection always comes with a price, now doesn't it?"

His jaw tightened a little, his eyes narrowed as he studied me for a heartbeat. "Not always."

It was my turn to snort as I turned back to the dark waters. "You'll forgive me if I don't believe you."

I could feel him staring at me, but I refused to look at him. I knew I was foolish for arguing, for letting him get to me after we'd started to learn to work together, but the weight of responsibility on my shoulders was too much. His jibes were infuriating, his mere presence an annoyance, and I had all but forgotten any notion of seeking revenge upon him. I just wanted him to _shut up_. Yet…even so, a tiny, annoying part of me knew that without him there, I would have felt even more lost. _No_. He was a necessary part of this, that was all…or so I told myself. He just needed to stay the hell out of my way until I got a grip on things.

"Supper's ready if'n yer hungry, friends," commented Warek, the mangy, lecherous but obviously harmless fisherman who'd been kind enough to sneak us out of Betancuria. "Don' think you'll be surprised t' know that fish is all I can offer ya, though."

Pia finally looked up from her journal, her expression less than appreciative of both the interruption and the offered food, but Anden spoke first. "We thank you for your kindness, good sir," he answered with his signature formal bow. Not even at court had I seen anyone bow so often, and for no obvious reason at that. "I am sure I speak for us all when I say how much we appreciate your hospitality."

"Why don't you just bend over and suck his dick already?" Vico grumbled as he moved toward the small table set up in the center of the fishing boat.

I had to bite down on my tongue to hide my amusement at the sight of the horrified shock that colored Anden's face, but he was saved from responding by Warek himself. "Now, now no need fer all that praise, sonny," the fisherman chuckled at the ranger, but he couldn't hide the nervous glance he sent toward Vico. "Jus' doin' my part is all. Nothin' special. Now, eat up, 'fore it gets cold."

It was already cold I discovered as I poked experimentally at the slimy-looking meal on a plate that couldn't have been washed in the last six months, if ever. I managed to swallow a few bland but pungent bites, feigning attention on my companions as they discussed the possibility of Dhorn patrols, what we could expect once we arrived in Westwood and so forth, but within a few moments I was reduced to simply sipping the watered-down ale in my cup.

I felt Vico's sharp eyes on me even before he spoke. "What's wrong with you?"

I wanted to tell him that nothing was wrong, but behind the harsh, demanding tone lay obvious concern and I felt compelled to answer him. "I…I've been feeling sick since we left," I admitted, uncomfortable when all eyes suddenly turned toward me. "I thought it was just the boat but…" I winced as my stomach tightened and roiled painfully. "Now I…maybe it's something else…."

"Ah, I doubt there be any need fer worry, Miss Rynn," Warek waved me off good-naturedly. "The rollin' of this ol' boat and perhaps th' smell o' th' fish has just gotten to ye is all."

As I set my drink back down on the table, I realized my hands felt strange…disconnected. Curious, I rubbed the tips of my fingers together, then pursed my lips a few times. "I feel…numb?" I said softly, then glanced around at the people watching me. Pia looked worried, Anden confused, and Vico…his face was ice.

"Poison," he said flatly, confirming my growing suspicion. I'd heard rather graphic descriptions from Jacia and others about what certain, exotic poisons can do to a person before it kills them, and it was all I could do to keep panic from taking over my already muddled brain.

"Oh come now," Warek scoffed, but with less conviction than his last comment, "don' be jumpin' t' some wild notion like that s'fast. Takes a while fer most to get their sealegs, lad, I doubt-."

The dark knight had been watching me closely the whole time, though my grip on reality seemed to be drifting as my vision blurred and I was suddenly seeing two Vicos. _Time to panic yet?_ He twisted in his seat and snatched Warek by the collar of his shirt. "I _know_ poison, old man," he snarled," and if I find out your fish had anything to do with this…." He didn't finish his threat, and by the look on the fisherman's face he didn't need to, and before I knew what was happening, I felt strong arms lifting me.

"What are you doing?" Anden demanded, but by that point I was too weak, and frankly terrified, to do much else but let Vico haul me around like a sack of grain.

"Get the fuck out of my way," Vico snapped and I became aware that my head was pitched forward over the edge of the ship, dark, swirling water flowing beneath me. It felt like a dream, or a nightmare if the burning agony in my stomach was any indicator. "Come on, birdie," he urged softly near my ear, "get as much as you can out of your system."

My instincts were screaming to shove him away from me, to tell him he was the last person I wanted helping me, touching me, but my body at least seemed to be listening. The vomit burned its way up my throat, leaving me half-screaming, half-choking in Vico's arms as I dangled over the railing.

"Oh my…" I vaguely heard Pia murmur somewhere nearby, "is…is that _blood_?"

Blood? I couldn't figure out what she was talking about. I tried to open my eyes, but failed, tried to stand up straight, but my body wouldn't respond. Again I was picked up and shifted like I weighted nothing at all, though I was too disoriented by then to tell sky from ground.

"Fuck." That was Vico. "There's too much in her system already. Time to earn your keep, ranger boy."

Even with my eyes shut, I could hear the frown on Anden's face. "We don't even know the cause of this malady, let alone the cure!"

I was pretty certain I heard Pia snort and mumble, "You really _are_ worthless." Inspiring that they could find time to insult each other while I was dying on the floor.

"She's poisoned, dumbshit!" the urgency in Vico's voice was matched only by his annoyance. "Purge the damn poison out of her system!"

"That's a very difficult thing to do without more information than 'she's been poisoned'!"

Fog swallowed my mind around that point. Of course my imagination can well believe that their bickering continued for quite some time, possibly while I lay convulsing or frothing at the mouth. When I woke several minutes later – or hours…hell maybe more than a day had passed – I was warm in my bedroll below deck. _Too_ warm. _Suffocating_. I remember trying to call out, but my voice croaked and failed me. Someone held me, or forced me down to keep me still. I think I started to cry, but everything was very blurry.

At one point, the others were arguing that I must have been poisoned back in the city before we left. Vico seemed content to blame Warek, but his threats toward the older man seemed more out of frustration than actual murderous intent. In my very few moments of semi-clarity, I could easily detect the fear in the dark knight's voice.

I know that for a time I dreamed much – wild, fevered nightmares that I will not force myself to remember now, or ever. There was pain, almost constant, first in my stomach, then across the surface of my skin, then pounding like a mallet inside my head. I remember Anden's hands, cool and smooth against my sweating skin, and Pia beside him as well, pouring their healing powers into me. Their efforts did not help, and something about their presence…_annoyed_ me.

When I finally surfaced back into the real world I was alone and wrapped tightly in my bedroll…and I was naked. Scowling, I kept a blanket wrapped around me as I struggled to sit up, angry at how weak I was. As soon as I got myself upright I blacked out, leaning against the rough, splintery wall and groaning into my hands until the dizziness began to fade. Footsteps on the stairs sent me into a near panic, and I foundered for a weapon that was nowhere to be found before attempting an invisibility spell. It failed and fizzled into nothing just as Warek rounded the corner.

"Aye, easy there lass!" he all but yelled, throwing his arms up in surrender. If I hadn't been still so disoriented I might have wondered at the truly terrified look in his eyes. "It's only me, an' I mean ye no harm!"

"Warek," I sighed, my voice rough and broken as I slumped again against the wall. "What…?"

"Take it easy," he soothed with obvious relief in his voice. "I'll fetch ye some water. You been out fer more'n a week now."

_Seven days?_ He crouched near me and held out a rusty cup filled with clear liquid, and I lunged for it instinctively. My nails scratched his hand as I snatched at the cup, but I didn't even acknowledge him as I chugged the room temperature, metallic tasting water, choking as the first gulp stuck in my throat but refusing to stop until I'd drained it all. As I sat coughing and trembling weakly against the wall, my blankets all askew, my skin greasy and grimy, I couldn't help but think bitterly, _What would Mother say if she saw me now?_

Warek cleared his throat and shifted away from me uncomfortably. I picked up on it that time – he was afraid to look at me for too long. "Ye probably got quite an appetite by now. I've got some trail rations, if'n yer interested?"

I nodded mutely, unable to hide the snarling growl coming from my very empty stomach, as if the stale water had wakened a slumbering beast inside me. I accepted the offered food without damaging my host and sat silently nibbling for several minutes. Finally, "Where are we?"

"Westwood," he answered so quickly that I knew he'd been waiting for me to ask. "Been here…mmm, nigh on three days now?"

"That was fast," I murmured.

"Indeed t'was," he agreed, seeming to relax a little. "Luck was on our side I'd wager, from th' wind and current bein' with us, and not runnin' into no Dhorn patrols. Couldn't a gone no better methinks." He flushed and stammered as I raised an eyebrow at him. "A-aside from yer illness, o'course lass."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Why the hell was he acting so frightened of me? "Where are my companions?"

The old fisherman averted his eyes and rubbed the back of his neck for long enough to give me a very bad feeling about whatever he was going to say. "T'be honest, Miss Rynn, I haven't a clue. Ya see…the Dhorn beat us here." I squeezed my eyes shut and I know he could hear my teeth grinding together. "Th' city be under full occupation. They didn' a give us much guff when we docked, though, so after a full day's sittin' here, and you not getting' no worse, they set out t'see what they could see. Ain't heard from 'em since."

"Wonderful," I all but snarled as I dragged my fingers through the rat's nest of hair matted to my scalp. "So they just ran off and left me here, and probably got themselves killed, or worse yet, captured by the Dhorn. Fucking idiots."

Warek shifted uncomfortably as I ranted then started forward as if to help me when I tried to stagger to my feet. The look I sent him stopped him in his tracks, and he leaned awkwardly against the far wall, looking at everything but me, as I forced my frail, weakened body to obey me. "T'be honest," he suddenly started nervously, "I were right shocked that they managed t'tear that dark one away from ye."

I swayed and braced myself against the wall, but I was pleased to feel that my former strength – slight though it was – was rapidly returning. "Dark one?" I echoed. "You mean Vico?"

"Aye, that be his name. Guarded ye like a wild dog, he did. Especially after…" he faded off and blanched, obviously having said too much.

"After what?" When he still hesitated, I lost all patience. "Spit it out already!"

He flinched but at least I got him to speak. "W-well…t-that ranger lad managed t'clear th' poison from yer blood, but ye was still runnin' a heavy fever, lass. So him 'n that cute little bard got t'arguin' and finally they decided t'try and heal ya together."

"Yes…" I nodded slowly, "I…think I remember that…."

His eyes widened then narrowed sharply. "Ye…do? Well…" he cleared his throat and seemed to shake off his thoughts, "yer body didn' a react th' way they was expectin' I guess. Th' dark one, Vico, started shoutin' that they was makin' ya worse, tryin' t' kill ya or some such. Then…I don' rightly know what happened but…it were like a sudden flash o' light came out from ye, then that little Pia lass stared screamin' something awful. Like the shriek o' th' damned it were."

I blinked at him and shook my head when he did not go on. "I don't understand."

"Ye burned her, lass," he said with a mix of solemnity and worry, most likely worry for himself. "Right in th' face, too. I could smell th' burnin' hair an' everythin'. The ranger managed t' heal her up, no scar or nothin', but she was outta her mind scared fer a while there. After that, th' dark lad kept 'em all away."

"Damn it," I grumbled under my breath. I didn't particularly _like_ Pia, especially considering her hand in manipulating me during my testing phase, but I certainly didn't want her afraid of me. I needed her to rescue Nathan, just like I needed them all. I sighed and massaged my temples. "I guess I better find out what the hell happened to them. Where's my clothes?"

The fisherman nodded toward a worn chest near the foot of my bedroll. "Should all be there, an' yer armor an' such is on a table in th' other room yonder. There's also a wash basin right here."

He paused, probably waiting to see if I needed anything else, then made a hasty escape above deck. I stood silent and staring off for another few minutes, trying to digest all that I'd heard as well as regain as much of my balance as possible. Finally I sighed again and washed as well as any person can wash in a tiny puddle of water. I gave up on sorting out my hair and simply twisted the mess back out of my face, then pulled on my clean clothes.

I discovered my cleaned, repaired and recently oiled leathers spread neatly on a table in the adjacent room. So, not only had Vico stayed by my side until he knew I was recovering, but he'd also washed my clothes, taken care of my armor, and apparently – I lifted my little dagger and frowned at it. I could sense a new enchantment on my weapon and it only took me a few seconds to identify it. Poison, of a permanent kind. How Vico had learned to do such a thing was a mystery, but he'd probably found it amusing to enchant my blade with it while I lay recovering from a similar poison. When I thought about it, it _was_ amusing actually.

Chuckling to myself, I belted on the leathers and tucked my dagger into its sheath. As I marched up the steps onto the deck, I tried not to think about how much I liked knowing Vico was watching over me. The fact that he made me feel safe was disturbing even to me, and besides that, I was ultimately after revenge when it came to him. Wasn't I? Yes, of course I was. That explained why I was so anxious to find him alive - because _I_ should be the one to kill him. Of course.


	4. Undone

**A/N:** Long chapter. This one actually turned out pretty good (I think) even though it didn't go the way I'd thought it would at first. (I keep thinking I know how Rynn will act in a situation, then once I put her there she decides to do her own thing.) It takes place at that pivotal resting place after entering the dwarf city. One more chapter after this and that'll wrap this story up. Oh, and I did a little sketchy thingie from this chapter - it's on my DA page and the link can be found on my profile.

**Strong Warning:** For adult, sexual situations and language.

**Disclaimer:** A Dance with Rogues is the property of Valine.

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**Undone**

"We-e-ell…" Pia's sarcasm was a heavy as the stale air in cluttered dwarven inn, "nice to know they go all out for their honored guests, huh?"

I sighed and plopped my pack down on the nearest dusty bunk without responding. Of course, Vico would take over my missed opportunity. "This dump smells like dwarven ass hair. Lit on fire. Put out with hot dwarven piss."

The bard made a noise of disgust and rolled her eyes even as I smirked quietly. "You're always so poetic," she simpered. "I'll have to write that bit of inspiration down 'lest I forget it."

The scoundrel winked and smacked her hard on the ass before she could move out of the way. "You're welcome." He turned to me with an almost pleading look, completely disregarding the glowering bard rubbing her backside. "Do we _really_ have to stay here?"

"You have a better idea?" I murmured even as I began to unpack my essentials.

"Hell yeah. I say we kill all these fucking smelly, undersized trolls."

I looked up at him expectantly, waiting for him to complete his thought, but apparently that was the whole of his "better idea." "Appealing," I replied, "but what exactly would that gain us?"

He looked offended and crossed his arms over his chest. "My happiness?"

I snorted and gathered a few things in my arms as I stood up again. "Sadly the appeal of a hot bath and bed that's more comfortable than cold stone is overshadowing my desire to make you happy. Shocking, I know. Now, if you'll all excuse me, I'm going to make use of that bath house outback." I wrinkled my nose mockingly at Vico as I brushed passed him. "Might I suggest you do the same."

"Is that an invitation?" he purred, but I didn't so much as glance back at him as I breezed out into the dwarven city.

I returned nearly an hour later, clean, relaxed, absurdly poorer – damn greedy dwarves – and very ready for a long sleep. A whole night without having to keep watch was a dream come true, and I was happy to take advantage of it even if Vico was convinced we couldn't trust the dwarves. Despite my weariness, sleep was slow to come. Of course, there was much on my mind, so I should not have been surprised.

It's hard to explain how I could feel like we'd made good progress and yet accomplished absolutely nothing in the last weeks of constant traveling. I had a feeling we were getting closer to Master Nathan and the others, but it was impossible to know how much closer, or how much farther we had to go through these dark, endless tunnels. Not that I had too much to complain about, all things considered. None of us had died – yet – and the treasures we'd found so far would fetch a fine price back in the civilized world. And we'd all learned to fight together, to get along for the most part…even Vico and I.

Perhaps I should say especially Vico and I. As usual, I had nothing personal against the others, besides their sometimes-frequent moments of incompetence, but I found that I was only comfortable, relaxed, around the dark knight. Perhaps that was because I could be myself around him without my sanity coming into question. Things had been different between us since I'd broken the lot of them out of that Dhorn prison back in Westwood. We both looked at each other differently, though I wondered what he saw when he looked at me strangely sometimes, but neither of us spoke of it openly. I had no idea what I wanted from him anymore – revenge, or something else? – and thinking about it too long made my head hurt. _So stop thinking about it_. I sighed, snuggled deeper into my bed and soon sleep crept over my mind.

Frustratingly, I woke up exactly four hours later as I normally would to take watch. The contented snoring of the others reached my ears, and grumbling to myself I yanked the blankets up over my head. _Damned schedule_. I hadn't even started to relax when I felt a nervous tingling across the back of my neck, and I cautiously eased the blankets down and turned my head toward the front doorway of the inn. Glittering eyes watched me unblinking from the shadows, eyes that could only belong to Vico, though the rest of him was mostly shrouded in darkness.

Why wasn't he sleeping? I sent him a questioning look, but it was several seconds before he moved. His eyes flickered toward a staircase beside him – how tired had I been that I haven't even noticed those stairs when we arrived? – and then returned to me with something like a challenge. I blinked at him stupidly and he just shrugged and vanished up the stairs, leaving me wondering what the hell was going on. _Am I dreaming?_

I'd be lying if I said I didn't seriously consider just going back to sleep, but…hell, I always knew curiosity would be my undoing.

The stairs were narrow and creaked ominously, but I doubted anything short of a cave-in would wake my unconscious companions. Several closed doors lined the upper landing, but the farthest one on the right was open, a faint, flickering light spilling out into the hallway. I wasn't sure whether to be nervous or worried or simply curious, so I tried to swallow all my emotions as I approached the door. Still, I was astonished by what waited inside.

The first thing I thought was that this _must_ be a dream because the room reminded me of the castle from my childhood. The massive four-post bed – far too large to be of dwarven make – was decorated in extravagant furs and silks, and the tops of the few but very luxurious-looking pieces of furniture were _covered_ in candles. There could have easily been hundreds of the simple, white wax sticks, and none of them had ever been used save for the two that had recently been lit and cast the only light in the wondrous room.

I stood gaping in the doorway for a long moment, then managed, "This…this is…."

"Like a dream," Vico finished for me, and for the first time I noticed him watching me from the far end of the room. I'd never seen him look so relaxed as he leaned his shoulder against the wall, his arms crossed nonchalantly over his chest. He wore only a loose, black shirt, unbuttoned at the collar, simple pants of the same color, and the sight of his bare feet poking out beneath the cuffs was the most shocking sight I'd seen in a long time. Of course I was wearing nearly the same thing at that moment, but on him it was completely different. The dark knight, the man who acted as though his sword were an extension of his arm and only took his armor off to clean it – and occasionally himself – before putting it right back on again, looked…defenseless.

"This _has_ to be a dream," I murmured aloud with a mystified shake of my head.

The corner of Vico's mouth twitched upward in a smirk. "A dream of what? The past? The future? What might have been?" I think his tone was meant to be mocking, but it lacked his usual sting, and judging by his quick scowl, he realized it too. "Still wishing you were safe behind your castle walls, little princess?"

I didn't answer right away, but looked toward the nearest row of candles as I approached them. Rubbing the tips of my fingers together, I summoned a tiny flicker of magical power, not even enough to be called a spell, and very slowly began touching each wick, igniting them with a spark of fire. "Walls don't make one safe," I finally said without pausing in my task. "They didn't protect me from you."

"Do you wish they had?"

My hand froze for a fraction of a second, but I was sure it was long enough for him to notice before I kept lighting the last of the candles. _Thirty-one of them_. "I don't wish for anything," I answered more harshly than I'd intended to, but I refused to look up at him. The gentle, dancing flames held my focus. "This is my life now. Dwelling on the past and dreaming of another life is a waste of time."

"Smart girl." He was closer to me, but his shoeless tread made no sound on the wood floor. Still I refused to look at him. "But you're just saying that to dodge the question."

I was angry suddenly though I wasn't sure why and when I turned to face him, he was standing right beside me. It angered me more that I stood barely halfway up his chest and I glared up at him even as he stared passively down. "Why did you bring me up here, Vico?"

His eyes brows arched in amusement. "Bring you? Birdie, you brought yourself up here."

I scoffed and wondered if it was some trick of the light or if he was actually leaning closer to me. "You obviously wanted me to follow you."

"And you obviously wanted to follow me."

He was definitely leaning closer now, close enough for me to feel the warmth of his body heat, and I couldn't help but take a nervous step backward. The amusement deepened in his dark, almost black eyes, their depths strangely unsettling in the flickering candlelight. "What do you want from me?" I half-whispered, suddenly on edge and feeling defensive. If this was what I'd wanted, to get close to him to seek my revenge, why was my stomach suddenly in knots?

"The same thing you want from me," was his murmured response. He didn't try to move closer to me or touch me at all, but his face was so intense that I had a hard time keeping eye contact.

"What the hell would you know about what I want?" Standing so close to him, alone in that beautiful room, I was terrified, but not for the reasons I should have been.

He smirked, suggestion thick in his voice. "Probably more than you."

I felt my lip raise up in a sneer, but behind my indignant mask, my heart was pounding and I couldn't stop a blush from coloring my cheeks. "You have nothing I want," I spat with less conviction than I'd hoped for.

He inched closer then and I simply refused to back down. "I keep telling you you're a terrible liar."

"All you know how to give is pain, Vico," hissed up at his shadowy face. "You said it yourself – you take what you want at the expense of everyone else. You have _nothing_ I desire." I didn't care anymore if he knew I was afraid. I just kept hoping he'd assume I was afraid of him hurting me again instead of realizing what really terrified me.

I thought I spotted something like regret pass across his face, but he shrugged and the emotion was gone. "Let me prove you wrong."

I blinked as my anger was replaced by confusion, then a strange, twisting curiosity at the quiet request. He wasn't demanding, he wasn't taunting, he was…_asking_. His face was peaceful in an eerie sort of way, no impatience or expectation in his dark eyes. He was just _waiting_ for an answer. I'd never heard him ask anyone for anything and I had absolutely no idea how to respond.

"Rynn." The sound of my name on his lips made the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand on end and I forced my eyes off of his face, turning my head as if I would walk away. The sudden heat of his breath against my cheek, the brush of his shirt against the back of my hand rooted me in place before I could turn, my breath frozen in my throat while my heart hammered frantically against my ribs. "All you have to say," I shivered as his words tickled against my ear, his lips so close yet not touching my skin, "is no."

I was trembling and off-balance, teetering on my heels with the option of either stumbling backward – and right into the lovely candles I'd decided to light – or catching myself against the man standing a mere fraction of an inch away from me. My instincts took over and I abruptly found my fingers twined in the cloth covering his solid chest, my wide eyes turned up to stare into his unreadable gaze. Even as I leaned against him, shaking like a frightened maid, he didn't touch me, just stared at me strangely.

"Do you have any idea how those eyes have haunted me?" he whispered. From the corner of my vision I saw his hand rise as if he were going to touch my face, but it lingered in the air for a heartbeat then returned to his side. "Every time I close my eyes…every night as I fall asleep I see those eyes, watching me…taunting me. I can't escape you."

I shook my head weakly, struggling to find my voice. "How can you expect me to let you near me after what you've done?" I finally managed breathlessly.

He smiled softly and I flinched a little as I felt his rough, callused palms caress the back of my hands still resting on his chest. "I'm already near you, Rynn."

I could feel the tension in his fingers, the desire written clearly across his sharp features. In his own way he was showing me trust and I wasn't sure why but I found myself whispering, "All I've ever known is pain, Vico." I cursed myself for confessing that, and in a voice filled with fear no less – it felt like weakness.

His grip on my hands tightened, his face intense as he leaned in closer. "Then let me change that," he urged, a few unruly strands of his sable hair tickling my forehead. "Let me prove you wrong. Please."

My eyelids drifted shut as he whispered that one simple, impossible word against my lips. _This has to be a dream._ "Vico…" I vaguely heard my trembling voice say, drown out by the pounding of my pulse in my ears.

He didn't wait for me to say more – which was good since it would likely have been incoherent babbling – but simply inched his lips forward to brush mine. I'd never been kissed by a man before, my only other experience being a very drunken run-in with Pia before I knew she was part of the family, and so I didn't really know how to respond. Vico was shockingly gentle with me, his soft lips caressing mine with a slow, deliberate passion as his thumbs rhythmically massaged the backs of my hands, but I knew him better than that. Beneath the surface I could feel his hunger, and I knew that the dangerous man's carefully schooled patience would eventually run out. I wasn't sure exactly what that would mean for me, but the knowledge made me nervous.

"Vico," I breathed as I pull back for air, "I…." My voice trembled off into a ragged sigh as he nuzzled along my jawline, his lips pausing to explore a delightfully sensitive spot just below my ear. My hands still held in his, he lifted my arms to twine them around the back of his neck, then wrapped his powerful arms around my waist to pull me tightly against the hard planes of his much larger form. "I…I'm afraid."

He shook his head against the crook of my neck, his breath burning like fire against my collarbone as he nudged my shirt off my shoulder. "I won't hurt you," he murmured between heated kisses. "I won't let anyone hurt you."

And I believed him. Perhaps it was simply the dizzying desire his touch was igniting within me, feelings I didn't even know could exist until then, but at that moment I really, truly believed him. "That's…oh…that's not what I'm afraid…of…" but my words were lost as one of the hands pressing my back suddenly shifted. I gasped and writhed as his fingers swept under the front of my shirt, tickled up my ribs and circled the underside of my breast teasingly.

"Then what are you afraid of?" He held me, his face bent over mine to study my expression as the hand beneath my shirt traced a lazy arch over the top of my breast, then slowly spiraled inward toward the hardening nipple.

"I…am afraid…" _of feeling. _I couldn't – _wouldn't_ – finish my statement, and he did not press the matter. At that point I don't think either of us cared. My eyes drifted shut to savor the sensations, then opened to catch a satisfied smirk on his face as a half-moaning sigh escaped my mouth. The sound suddenly shifted to a sharp gasp as he flicked my shirt up and ducked his head to catch the waiting point of eager flesh between his lips. It was too much – the room, the candles, the man, the sensations – and I felt like I was melting as my knees gave out under me.

His arm tightened across my back and held me firm, but the bastard was laughing at me, his voice both smug and lusty. "Now, now, none of that," he murmured as he breathed a kiss against my parted lips. "It wouldn't do to have the princess fall and hurt herself, now would it?"

He swept me up into his arms like I weight nothing at all and in one stride deposited me on the luxurious bed, my feet dangling over the side. Leaning over me, he braced his weight on one arm while he swept a few messy locks of hair back from my forehead with the other. I tried to calm my frantic pulse and ragged breathing, but the way he was staring at me with such passion and longing made me tremble all over. "So beautiful," he murmured before crushing my lips in a searing kiss.

A small sound of protest that rose in my throat at his forcefulness was contradicted by the arch of my back as my hips ground against him demandingly. _Damn traitorous body._ Vico's hand swept under my shirt again, his rough caress curving up the dip of my waist before grasping for my breast with almost desperate need. Catching my wrists in his other hand, he raised them over my head and stretched my body out taut beneath him as he rained hot kisses down my neck and chest. I surprised myself by pressing against him, my high, breathy sounds strange to my own ears, and I wriggled against him until I got one leg free, wrapping it up around his waist to pull him more tightly to me. _I actually want this?_ I arched my back to give him freer access to my body, ready to let him have full control of me, until….

Pressed firmly against my thigh I could feel the hot length of his arousal, throbbing with desire, and in one white hot second of panic it shattered the passion thrumming through my body. Do not misunderstand – I was no fool. I knew where our actions were leading us, and logically I knew that I wanted this, but the knowledge that an aroused man was a dangerous man had been utterly ingrained in my head and become a part of me. It was my _instinct_ to fight him, but I just barely managed to suppress that urge and simply lay frozen beneath him.

Vico immediately felt the change, the tension that wracked my entire body, and he pulled back to stare into my panic-stricken face. Sadness flashed behind his dark eyes as he slowly eased his body weight up off of me, but he did not release my hands or stop gently massaging my breast. Tenderly his lips brushed against mine, his slow patience taking over again and I could not help but start to relax again. His fingertips trailed down the center of my flat stomach, drifted over my hip bone and back up my ribs in lazy strokes as his tongue flicked lightly against my lips. I sighed as my mind began to calm, and he shifted his grip on my wrists so that his fingers twined intimately with my own. For several minutes he kept up the gentle, erotic caresses until I was squirming with pent up desire, ready to beg him for something more even though I wasn't entirely sure I would be able to overcome my fears.

After a firm, probing kiss, Vico lifted himself up and stood over me beside the bed. His face was shrouded in shadow, but his eyes were bright with want and I actually smiled up at him as I remained stretched out before his gaze. He took a deep, ragged breath as if to calm himself, then leaned forward to catch the bottom of my shirt in his hands. Despite a roiling knot of nervousness in the pit of my stomach, I sat up and let him pull my shirt up over my head. I shivered in the cool room but a fiery flush traveled through me at the heat in Vico's eyes. His fingers raised goosebumps along my arms as he lightly caressed my shoulders before gently pressing me into the bed once more.

I tensed as he reached for the ties of my pants, but my fear melted into a strained groan as his hot breath circled my navel, his tongue tracing a trail outward toward my hipbone. I was so distracted by his mouth suckling softly against the sensitive hollow of my hip that I didn't even notice my pants being removed until they slipped off my toes into a puddle on the floor. Even then I was given no chance to dwell on the fact that I was completely naked as the dark knight worked his mouth down the curve of my pelvis, his teeth grazing the skin of my inner thigh.

"Vico…" I strained out through a moan, my fingers twisting in the silken sheets beneath me.

He stopped and I lifted my head to see him grinning up at me from between my knees. "Say it again," he commanded in a husky voice.

I was immediately embarrassed – _look at yourself!_ – but again he gave me no chance to think. Strong, skilled fingers slid up the back of my thigh, paused to caress my bottom, then crept inward toward the center of my pulsating desire. "Vico," I whispered throatily as he explored deeper, urging my legs farther apart. "Vico…."

In one quick move he knelt on the floor beside the bed, my legs hooked over his shoulders in the most vulnerable position I'd ever been in. His name tore from my lips like a chant as he began an exquisite torture against the crux of my legs. His tongue barely brushed the length of my slit, and though my demanding body tried to press into him, he held me flat on the bed firmly by my hips. He repeated the slow, deliciously cruel action twice more, his eyes glittering wickedly when I glanced down at him, then suddenly his mouth was on me hard, driving against the part of me that screamed for his attention, and I cried out as new sensations ripped through me. Up until then I had no idea that it could be like this, that my body could feel this way, and suddenly I was damned angry that I'd waited this long to find that out.

His tongue probed into me as deeply as possible, then slid up to caress the little pearl at the heart of my passion, and though I gasped and writhed beneath his ministrations, I could not shake off my anger. All this time I'd convinced myself that intimacy meant pain, and therefore I'd kept it as far away as possible, and now I'd come to find that _this_ was what I'd been denying myself? My teeth ground together and my hands balled into fists as wave after wave of rising pleasure now mingled with a fierce, burning fury pounding through my veins.

Vico, perceptive as always, knew something was off and paused what he was doing to look up at my face with a mixture of confusion and wariness. I didn't give him a chance to do anything more than that as I unhooked my knees from over his shoulders and kicked him hard in the center of his chest, sending him sprawling onto his backside on the floor. He was ten times stronger than me, but I was out of my mind with runaway emotions as I lunged off the bed at him, my nails scratching a row of red lines into his bare chest as I yanked at his shirt. He let me tear the shirt up over his head, but the moment he was free of it he grabbed me roughly by the waist and glared at me in annoyance and what was probably confusion. After all, only moments before he'd been coddling me to calm my fears and now I was all but assaulting him.

But I needed to do this – _had_ to do this. I had to know how wrong I'd been. I needed to prove it to myself.

I smiled darkly in answer to his irritated stare, sliding my bare body against his powerfully muscled chest before diving my fingers into his thick mane of ebony hair and yanking it painfully back to expose his throat to my teeth. His fingers tightened around my waist, bruising my back, but he eased his hold as I licked and nibbled my way down toward his chest. He tasted vaguely salty, his skin seeming permanently stained with the faint smell of leather and smoke. I was lightheaded on some strange feeling of power, knowing that this brutal, dangerous man could be bent to my will, and I was tempted to see just how far I could make him bend.

One of his hands slid down over the curve of my bottom, his insistent fingers suddenly rubbing circles around my wet opening until I released his hair and shoved him flat on his back onto the floor. Straddling his hips, I let him get a good look at me before I shifted my weight and jerked his pants unceremoniously down to mid-thigh. At the sight of his exposed erection I had to take a deep breath to calm myself, irrational panic threatening to take me over again. I glanced up at Vico's face as he stretched himself out, folding his arms behind his head in a leisurely manner as he watched me with a smirk on his smug face, as if to say, "Told you we should have done this my way."

That settled it for me and I shifted so quickly that he had no time to react – and I had no time to change my mind – before I was thrusting myself firmly down upon him, impaling him deep within my wet center. His entire body gave a satisfying spasm, a throaty gasp of pleasure escaping his mouth at my sudden aggressive move. It felt good…no…it felt _incredible_. I wasn't afraid. A little maddened with lust, but not afraid, and the realization almost made me laugh aloud. Vico's hands found my waist again and he held me still, the full length of him throbbing within me for want of release, but as he stared at me his eyes were filled with something like respect. "You really are a crazy bitch," he strained out in a whisper.

I did laugh then, light and unencumbered. Vico's mouth twitched as though he was fighting back a smile and he abruptly dragged me down against his chest to taste my mouth. I lost track of time, consumed by a blur of new experiences and tastes and sensations, both of us seeming determined not to be worn out by the other first. At some point we ended up back on the bed, and it was there that I woke a long while later, wrapped in soft furs, my body aching pleasantly and my mind racing like a wild, hunted beast.

This was my moment. Vico's warm, sleeping body lay wrapped around the curve of my back, his arm draped protectively around my waist as he breathed softly into my hair. I was irritated at myself for not bringing my dagger, yet all it would take was a well placed spell – such as an acid arrow to the throat – and it would be done, my revenge complete. _But, that would be so messy. I wouldn't want to ruin these lovely sheets with bloody, melting flesh. Damn dwarves would probably make me pay for them. _With that option off the table, I wasn't sure what I could do. _How about…forget revenge and just fall back to sleep?_

"Kicking yourself for not bringing your dagger, huh?"

Vico's sleepy mumbling gave me a startled twitch, but I did my best to keep calm as I rolled onto my stomach and turned my face toward him. Only two candles had not burned out and I could barely make out anything in their dying light. "What?"

He cracked one eye open and gave me a bored look before closing it again. "You really are the worst fucking liar I've ever met."

I scowled even though his tone was more uncaring than insulting. "Look, I don't know what the hell you're talking about…."

"You and I are very alike, little Rynn," he murmured so softly I had to strain to hear him even in the silent room. He opened both eyes this time but I could read nothing from his expression. "I know you want to kill me. If I were you, I'd want that too."

I blinked in surprise and just stared at him. He seemed so calm about it that it was hardly worth denying, but a little part of me wanted to believe that he was guessing or trying to trick me into revealing something. "If I wanted that…" I began very slowly, "why…would I have let this happen?"

He shrugged. "To get close to me? It wasn't a bad plan, actually. For a while there you had me fooled, up until you started forcing yourself to come on to me back in Betancuria." He smirked and tenderly brushed the tips of his fingers down the curve of my cheek. "You've got talents, Rynn, but bluffing ain't one of them."

I scowled and fought down the urge to slap his hand away. _Am I really that transparent?_ "I still don't know what you're getting at, Vico."

If he heard me, I couldn't tell because he just kept studying my face passively, then gingerly picked up my hand lying on the bed between us and pressed my fingers against his lips. "But things got out of hand, didn't they? Things happened that you didn't expect, and now everything's different. Everything's _been_ different for a while." A nervous little lump formed in my throat at the tender way he was watching me and I really hoped he couldn't feel my hand trembling. "Did you know that you dreamed while you were sick?"

I startled at the sudden question, a dark frown twisting across my face. "Yes," I whispered.

He kept holding my hand, his thumb gently running over the back of my knuckles in a light, soothing gesture. "What were they about?" he pressed.

I turned my face away from him to hide the pain I knew he'd see there and instead focused my eyes on the very last candle left burning. "I…I don't…." I wanted to say I didn't remember, but if I were as poor a liar as he accused me of being then he'd see right through me. Of course I remembered – I just refused to think about it. "Don't make me remember, Vico."

Firmly he grabbed my shoulder and turned me on my side to face him again. "You were crying," he said, catching my chin in his palm to keep me looking at him as I tried to avoid his dark eyes. "It was the worst sound I'd ever heard because…you sounded…broken. You kept asking for help, calling for someone to save you. I thought…" he faded off and shook his head, his face for a moment twisted with anger.

"Then you sat up, opened your eyes, looked right at me. I knew you were still dreaming, but you said my name…you called me over." He traced a curved line beneath my eye with his thumb. "These beautiful eyes weren't made for so much sadness." A ragged sigh escaped his mouth before he continued and I was floored by the emotion in his deep voice. "You begged me to protect you, Rynn. You kept saying that you needed me to keep you safe…and I promised I would."

I had to remind myself to breathe as I stared at him in disbelief. I had no way of knowing if what he said was true, though I had no memory of anything like that happening, but suddenly I was wondering if I really _did_ need him, need his protection. "Vico," I forced myself to say despite the desire to simply accept what he'd said, "I was…_dreaming_. I don't think…."

"I know," he interrupted with a quiet nod. "I don't put much stock in the weird shit people say while they're hallucinating, Rynn, but now…." He gave me a long, serious look before he said flatly, "I can't help but wonder why I'm not dead yet."

I narrowed my eyes at him but I doubt I looked anywhere near as tough as I thought I did. "Because I forgot my dagger."

He nodded with an amused smile on his face but said, "I don't think so."

"If you thought I was going to kill you, then why do this?" I demanded, more shocked than annoyed. "Why put yourself at risk if you knew?"

He was silent for so long that I began to wonder if he would answer at all. "I don't know," he finally said with a hapless shrug. Before I could open my mouth to tell him how stupid that was, he turned the tables on me. "Were you really willing to go this far just to kill me, or was this something else?"

My mouth opened, then snapped shut again. "I…don't know," I grudgingly admitted with a scowl to answer his knowing smile. "This…wasn't what I expected."

Vico dipped his face to brush a feather light kiss against the hollow of my neck. "I can agree with that."

I sighed and tilted my head back to give him freer access, shivering as his bare thighs rubbed against mine. "This complicates things." He nodded but did not pause as his lips eagerly explored my shoulder and I sighed again. "Killing you would uncomplicate them."

He chuckled against my skin, the faint vibration tingling like electricity down my arm. "But then who would do this for you?" he murmured before he licked a tickling trail down my chest and flicked my nipple lightly.

I arched into him with a gasp and I could hear him faintly chuckling again. "Someday you'll outlive your usefulness," I murmured with absolutely no conviction whatsoever.

He rolled me onto my stomach, pushed my hair up off my neck and half sat up to lean over my back. "Then I'd better make the best of my time until then," he whispered hotly against my ear.

I squirmed and moaned as his teeth and lips worked down the back of my neck and the slope of my shoulder, his fingers painting random patterns down my back and bottom. "And…oh, Vico…you're willing to risk waking up one day with my knife in your back?"

He shifted to press him warm mouth against my ear again, his muscular form rubbing torturously against my backside. "Hell yes."

I smiled to myself and surrendered to his touch as the last candle sputtered out and left us alone with the darkness.


	5. Broken

**A/N:** First of all, thank you all so much for the reviews. I am completely worthless when it comes to replying to them (I'm also horrible at returning phone calls, e-mails, letters, etc, so it's a universal problem) but I do appreciate them very much. I really just started this story as a writing excercise to explore characters (specifically Rynn, but also Vico) that were not like characters I'd written in the past. I'm glad other people enjoy the story besides me. :)

Now, I lied. There's one more chapter after this one. It could have been one big chapter, but if feels better putting the last bit by itself. Since the tone changes pretty dramatically, it just didn't work for me to lump them together. As for this chapter, I ended up getting the order of things all out of whack (it's been a few months since I played Rogues), so I'll prep it a bit. This starts after the PC has been a drow slave for a while. If I'm remembering correctly now, in the game Rizzen's sister tortures the PC after fighting Vico because she thinks the PC recognized him. For the sake of this story, Rynn has just been "interrogated" for other reasons and has not yet fought the arena battle. Her behavior as a slave thus far has been utter silence. For the record as well, I do not dislike Rizzen, but I could not ever imagine Rynn and Rizzen getting along..._ever_. So, I apologize to the Rizzen fans. :p

**Warning:** For language, violence and adult concepts.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own _A Dance with Rogues_ or the characters therein - that honor belongs to Valine.

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**Broken**

Someone was approaching my cell. It had to be him, judging by the near silent whisper of his soles, but I didn't raise my head off the floor. This was where I'd been thrown and this was where I was going to stay. If he didn't like it, he'd have to come inside and do something about it.

"Get up, slave."

I stifled the urge to sneer and lay perfectly still on the cold, filthy floor of my prison cell. It hurt even to breathe, but I'd be damned if I would give him the satisfaction of knowing it.

"I said," his voice was lower and threatening, "_get up_, slave."

I couldn't help it. I turned my head to stare up at his handsome, ebony face to show him that I most certainly heard him but had no intention of doing as he asked.

His wine colored eyes narrowed, obviously unaccustomed to slaves – even me – defying his commands. I couldn't wait for my chance to kill him. "Do _not_ test my patience."

I tried to laugh but the searing pain in my stomach turned the sound into a groan. "Or what?" I ground out, my voice ruined from screaming. "You'll have me _tortured_?"

Rizzen frowned, but the annoyance in his eyes softened. "So you are capable of speaking without extreme duress. It was not my will that you be interrogated, slave. My sister does not understand the subtlety required in handling untamed merchandise. Here," he took a slim glass vile from his belt and crouched down to offer it to me through the lower bars, "drink this. It will help."

My teeth were bared and I can imagine that I looked like a filthy, pale little beast backed into a corner, ready to bite anyone who came near. "Such _charity_ from one who would stand and watch me be burned nearly in half."

"Take it, slave," he ordered harshly, "before I change my mind."

I thought about spitting in his face, but my abdomen ached so terribly that I could hardly keep my focus anymore. It shamed me to think of accepting the potion from him, but what could I possibly gain by laying there in agony? He said nothing as I reached for the bottle, my hands trembling so much that I nearly spilled the bland, greenish liquid before I managed to swallow it in one draught.

The dark elf stood and stared coolly down his nose at me, arms crossed over his chest. "Better?"

I closed my eyes and lay still for a few seconds, both to relish the soothing relief that washed over my charred stomach and to annoy my drow "Master" with my silence. He watched me as I finally stood, unfolding my bare body to his sight – not that my nudity meant anything to him. Hell, it hardly meant anything to _me_ anymore. I'd been naked so often these last weeks that I doubted I even knew how to get dressed. I ran my now steady fingers over the still red, tender skin on my abdomen before meeting Rizzen's eyes. I stared at him boldly and did not answer.

"Such gratitude from a slave girl."

The corner of my mouth twitched but I still refused to answer. As if to taunt me, the glyph that neutralized my spells shimmered brightly from the arch of the doorway beside Rizzen, casting eerie shadows across his face.

He shook his head at me with a disappointed frown. "You'll learn your place."

Trying not to let my dark anger show on my face, I stepped toward the bars and lifted the empty glass vile as if to slide it back to my captor. As his hand reached for it, I held my breath, waiting until the exact right moment, then jarred the glass hard against the steel bars. The bottom of the thin vile shattered out with a startlingly loud sound and before Rizzen could jerk his hand back I lashed out with the jagged piece still in my grasp, opening a nasty gash across the back of his hand.

I wished I could understand the harsh, angry words that sprang to his lips as he stepped away, his face twisted in anger. "I _will_ break you, surfacer," he vowed before spinning on his heel and vanishing out of the slave pit.

I sneered at his retreating back, but the moment the heavy door clanged shut behind him I collapsed into the shadows in the rear of my cell. Ragged, dry sobs pinched my chest, but no tears came. They never came. It wasn't sorrow that tore at me – it was madness.

What a fool I'd been to ever think I understood the meaning of that word before then. Absolutely nothing I'd ever been through, even multiplied many times over, could come close to what I'd suffered since we'd stumbled into the mind flayer's trap. I was a slave, and as such I was no longer treated like a person, or even like an animal. To my "Masters" I was an object, without feelings, without opinions, without any worth besides what I could do for them. Being treated that way tears at the mind, warps it until the person either embraces their enslavement or breaks under the pressure. I wasn't sure how close I was to breaking, but I certainly wasn't going to submit. Ever.

Eventually the madness began to recede as I rocked myself back and forth like my nanny used to when I had nightmares as a child. This was my ritual now – powerful moments of uncontrollable emotions followed by utter stillness and peace – and a part of me was comforted by the routine. Focusing on the emotions, or utter lack thereof, kept my mind from wandering, kept me from thinking, wondering where the others were. If Pia was a slave like me, if I'd really watched Anden's mind being consumed or if that was just a horrible nightmare, if Vico was….

I couldn't let myself think about him at all. That old saying about not appreciating something fully until it's gone held more truth for me then than I'd ever imagined it could. It was more than want, more than need or lust – I loved him, as much as a creature like me could love someone. I knew he felt the same, even if we'd never said the words aloud. He'd sworn to protect me, but now here I was, and he was…where? If I'd let myself think about it for any length of time I would have admitted that I was angry with him, burning with rage from the inside out because he'd let this happen. But I never let myself think about it, or anything at all for that matter.

Calmly I stretched myself out on the thin pallet that was my bed, content with the stark emptiness that filled my mind. Something sharp pricked my wrist and I realized as I looked down that the broken end of the potion bottle was still clutched in my hand. A tiny dot of dark crimson blood pooled up from where I'd accidentally cut myself, and I stared in open fascination as the drop trickled down the side of my wrist.

It would be so easy. I brushed the jagged glass edge almost lovingly against the pale skin covering my inner wrist and the thick veins pulsing beneath. I was so small that it wouldn't take long for me to bleed out. Then this would be over and I wouldn't have to suffer anymore or be tortured again or _think_ about anything.

But that meant they'd won. If I gave in now then my drow Masters, Rizzen, that foul mind flayer, the Dhorn, all of them, it meant they'd _beaten_ me. I would not let them have that satisfaction, and with a small grunt for emphasis, I hurled the bottle fragment at the bars where it shattered and joined the rest of the pieces on the floor. Satisfied, I rolled my back to the door and curled myself up in a ball. Within moments I was asleep, lost in feverish dreams, the only thoughts I could not control.

The next few days – of course, it could have been hours or weeks for all I could tell in that cursed cell – were quiet and uneventful. Some cowering little slave came and cleaned up the broken glass, and occasionally the guards passed my cell to make lewd comments that they obviously had no intention of carrying out. I ate, I slept, I scribed spells in the dirt on the floor to keep my mind from wandering, but after a while I started to wonder if Rizzen had simply given up on me and left me to rot in my cell.

Before I had convinced myself of that, however, the drow himself showed up. He looked irritated and I judged by the angry, jerky movements of his hands as he took out his keys that he was not here by choice. "Let's go, slave," he practically snarled as he whipped open my door. "If you try anything stupid, I will kill you. Understood?"

I considered ignoring or even resisting him, but there was something in his eyes that told me he would carry through with his threat, almost as though he was looking for an excuse to do it. He slammed the door shut behind me as I stepped out and roughly seized my elbow in an iron grip, steering me out of the slave pits and through a tangle of narrow hallways. He led me to a small bathing chamber and ordered me to clean myself, which I did under the harsh, watchful gaze of the male dark elf. Of course, I didn't obey because he'd asked, but rather because I was sick of being covered in filth. I wasn't quite washed to my satisfaction when he informed me that I was finished, then he proceeded to shove the tiniest set of undergarments I'd ever seen toward me.

"Put them on," he insisted at my incredulous expression. "They may just save your life, slave."

I fought back the urge to respond as I dressed, but the moment that I slipped into them, I could feel a fairly strong enchantment upon the garments. Why would I need enchanted underwear? My stomach twisted nervously as Rizzen once again took hold of my arm, and I bit my tongue to keep from asking him what the hell was going on.

The next few moments passed in a blur, as I was mostly lost in my own wondering about what could possibly be going on. The distinct, low roar of a mass of gathered people reached my ears as we ducked into a low, cramped room, and the second Rizzen released my arm I pressed my face against the only tiny window to see what the cause of all the raucous was.

A combat arena, complete with rowdy, audibly blood-thirst crowd, was revealed outside, and I whipped around to stare at my drow Master with confusion. "Our rival House has challenged us," he explained bitterly, "our Champion against theirs. The problem is, you killed our House Champion."

Oh, yes, I remembered. He was a half-orc or ogre or something equally as ugly and foul smelling, and the gray dwarf pit master had thought it would be funny to have him beat me to a pulp. He could easily have ripped me to pieces had he caught me, but it seemed all his heavy armor didn't do much to protect him from magic. One fireball and he'd lit up like a dry torch. I'd used the distraction he'd caused as he ran around shrieking like a banshee to stick a dagger in the back of the pit master. After that they'd increased the strength of the glyph on my doorframe and apparently the run-in was enough to get Rizzen's sister's attention as well….

"That makes _you_ the Champion," the dark elf was saying, snapping me back to the present. "Our rival is using this chance to humiliate us. They believe you are no match for their Champion, and I am in agreement with them. Try not to die too quickly." Before I could gather my wits, he pressed a small dagger into my hand and shoved me out into the arena.

I'd be lying if I said the massive, screaming crowd didn't make me nervous, but still I was surprised at my own calm as I approached the gray dwarf standing in the center of the sprawling arena floor. This was an improvement from laying around in my cell trying to keep my thoughts bottled up, and certainly better than being tortured. The dwarf's booming voice, obvious magically enhanced, carried even over the roar of the spectators, but I couldn't understand a word he said. I suppose he was introducing me.

Then the door on the opposite end of the arena opened, and my world tilted on its side. Sure, it already seemed like things couldn't have gotten worse – or weirder – but if anyone could completely fuck up my weak grasp of reality, it was he. I can't for the life of me remember what went through my mind as Vico strode into the arena, but at some point I must have started walked toward him because suddenly we were standing only a few feet apart in the middle of the center ring.

Dark eyes, hooded in shadow, stared at me unblinking from a cold, emotionless face. There was a new scar on his chin that still looked raw and he seemed disturbingly comfortable in front of the throng of onlookers. The muscles of his bare chest rippled as he adjusted the grip on his weapons, a longsword in one hand and dagger in the other. He watched me with such unwavering attention that I wondered if the mind flayer had gotten to him.

"I guess this was unavoidable," his voice was so low and muted under the roar of noises around us that I had to take a step closer to hear, "us ending up on opposite ends of the field."

"You're…alive," I said softly. He tilted his head to the side and kept watching me without responding. "How?"

With an indifferent shrug he replied, "About the same as you, I'd imagine. Details don't really matter."

His expression was so empty, so callous and uncaring, and I couldn't stand it. Why wouldn't he show something, anything, even disgust or anger, but as it was he seemed _bored_. "I thought you were dead," I found myself saying, hoping for a response.

His eyes darkened, his jaw flexing for a moment before he murmured, "You mean you wished I was dead. Sorry to disappoint you, birdie."

What the hell was he talking about? I was suddenly and uncontrollably very angry – he had _let_ this happen, broken his promise to protect me and now he was going to throw accusations at _me_? "How could I be disappointed," I growled through clenched teeth. "_I_ wanted to be the one to kill you."

The cold indifference drifted back over his face again and he shrugged. "Now's your chance, princess."

Angry tears sprang to my eyes but I dashed them away, hopefully before he could notice. "You _promised_ me," I whispered hotly, trying to still the trembling through my small frame, "you swore to protect me, Vico."

For the first time since he'd strode into the arena, the dark knight looked away from my face, eyes downcast, his face was too shrouded in shadow to see what he might be thinking. He stepped toward me suddenly, almost a lunge, and before I could think to move out of his reach, his arm swept around my waist. Like a desperate man, his lips crashed down on mine, a violent, passionate kiss filled with desire and lust and…hopelessness. He shoved me away harshly as if I had been the one to embrace him and turned his back to me, throwing two careless, damning words over his shoulder.

"I lied."

I stared in disbelief and shock at his back as he paced to the edge of the center circle.

_I lied._

When he turned back to face me, his expression was dead again, a calm, cold mask descending on his features as he adjusted the grips on his weapons and shifted his stance.

_I lied._

His words echoed like a death knell in through my mind, agony and despair raging through my veins, so much worse than any physical wound. It had all been a lie. I'd given up my vengeance, denied myself the satisfaction I was due, only to find out that everything we'd shared had been a deception. Was that even possible? He had faked everything we'd been through, all the things he'd said, all the passion we'd shared? It couldn't be a lie…_it couldn't!_

I opened my mouth, ready to shriek those very words at him when the pit master suddenly shouted something. Vico's body dropped to an almost-crouch, his form tensed to spring, his soot-colored eyes locked on my face and in that moment I knew – he would kill me. Something frail was crushed inside me then and my eyes fell shut as I locked away the part of me that could still feel, letting a cold, rational need to survive take me over.

The words tumbled out almost as instinct as he charged and the invisibility spell wrapped itself around me just as I twisted out of his line of attack. He whipped around, scowling though I'm sure he must have suspected I would use this tactic, but I was already on the other side of the arena watching him.

He spun his longsword around in an arc in front of him, turning on his heel as he did so. To the spectators it probably looked like he was lashing out wildly, but I knew he was aware of my typical attack pattern. He was making sure I didn't come up behind him and plant my dagger in his back. But I knew him as well, his weaknesses – that's what happens when people fight side by side for months. Keeping a safe distance, I softly mouthed my next spell, waiting for a pause in his flailing before loosing the acid arrow into his right shoulder.

It was an almost perfect hit, and he growled in pain as the spell ate through skin and muscle. The longsword clattered to the hard ground, but in spite of the pain he dropped the dagger in his left hand and swept up the sword instead. I knew he fought like a blind half-wit with his left arm, but he was still strong and dangerous, and now I was exposed, his smoldering, angry eyes locked on me as he stormed toward me again.

He was nearly to me when I launched a fireball straight at his chest, the blast powerful enough to send him reeling backward, but he managed to keep his feet and charge me again. The rank stench of burning hair and flesh flooded my nose as he slashed his sword toward me, but I was able to parry the clumsy, weak blow. His eyes glittered dangerously, but I could see a thousand openings in his form and I did not hesitate. He raised his sword to swing again, but I ducked under his arm, pressed tightly against his chest, and sank my dagger to the hilt in his gut.

His body spasmed, an odd look of confusion and pain flashing across his face as his breathing hitched in his throat. For a moment his eyes met mine, and I wondered if I was imagining the sorrow and regret in those haunted depths before his heavy body slumped. I took the dagger with me as I twisted away from him, panting as I watched him collapse onto his side on the ground.

The crowd was screaming, but I did not hear them. My eyes were filled with the sight of his blood pooling on the hard dirt, my senses flooded with the burning stink of my spells, and I was shaking so hard I thought I would collapse. Vico's face looked peaceful…like it had when he was asleep beside me, his arm always draped protectively over my waist…a part of me was waiting for his eyes to flutter open, for him to smile up at me.

The other part of me was already moving me toward him to slice open his treacherous throat, to bleed him dry so that he could never, _never_ hurt me again. My teeth were barred behind my curled lips, an incoherent sound of fury bubbling up in my chest as I crouched beside him and pressed the blade firmly against his throat. He twitched at the cold press of steel against his flesh, and then his eyes opened to stare up at me.

_You're only hurting yourself._

I jerked back from him as if he'd burned me, the reaction more from the sudden memory that flickered through my mind than his eyes on me. I wasn't sure why it rose in my mind then, but I couldn't stop hearing the low voice in my head.

_This might make you feel better for a few moments, but when the dust settles, you will see how much pain you've caused yourself, child._

I was suddenly fourteen again, back in the castle with my mentor, standing angry and defiant in the middle of his lab. His mostly destroyed lab. I'd been working on a special experiment for him for weeks, pouring all of my free time into making a good impression on the aging wizard. And in one second of distraction, I'd botched the entire thing. Miserable, I'd admitted my failure to him, and he'd replied that he would not continue my training unless I completed the experiment again from the beginning – twice. I'd flown into a rage – it had been an accident, after all – and thrown books and potions around like a spoiled child. I suppose back then I _was_ a spoiled child.

But this was not the same! Vico deserved my wrath, perhaps even more than the damned Dhorn who slaughtered my father and took away my birthright, so why would those words return to me now? What was the difference anyway – he was as good as dead, wasn't he? The dark blood on the ground told me as much.

All the while, Vico had been watching me through mostly-closed eyes, but I could see the sadness and resignation in his face. I felt a twinge of guilt and that redoubled my anger – he shouldn't be able to make me feel that way! I ground my teeth, tightened my grip on the dagger and I would never forget how Vico's eyes widened just a little as the light flashed off the blade. With a snarl of satisfaction, I sank the weapon as deeply as possible into the thick muscle of his upper thigh. I couldn't bring myself to look at his face as I whispered, "Try not to die too quickly."

And then I was being lifted up by the strong hands of the gray dwarf pit master. He was laughing and patting me on the back as he gushed about what a spitfire I was and how amazed he was that I'd survived without a scratch. I hardly heard a word. I kept my eyes fixed dully on the ground as the crowd cheered and a few slaves entered to drag off Vico's body. Eventually I was handed back over to Rizzen, and although he seemed in high spirits, I neither spoke nor looked at him as he led me back toward the slave cells.

The dark elf said something about my clothing, but the words didn't register. I felt as though I wasn't myself anymore, that I was somehow detached, watching the small brown-haired human and the pompous drow from a distance. He shook my arm I think, but I don't remember if I responded.

"Slave," he snapped impatiently, "I gave you an instruction. Remove your garments."

I turned my face toward him, but I didn't see him, not really anyway. I felt adrift, lost…empty. It's hard to explain. I can't remember if I was thinking about anything specific either, or if I'd finally succeeded in blocking my thoughts from myself. Even so I must have obeyed him because I remember handing him something before I stepped inside my cell. He locked the door and stood staring at me for a while, but my eyes were fixed on empty air as I pressed my back into the cold stone wall and curled my legs up to my chest. I felt dead. Or maybe I just wished I was.

"Amazing," I vaguely heard Rizzen murmured to himself, though his tone sounded disappointed or perhaps sad, "that this dead male slave could do what neither I nor my sister could accomplish. You are broken."

As I watched the drow leave I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream. I wanted to rip my hair out and throw myself against the hard walls and bleed until I was empty and unable to feel anymore. I wanted to remember the last kiss he'd given me, yet I wanted to drive my dagger through his heart again and again until he was no longer a part of me. Twice he'd destroyed me. Twice he'd taken everything I had, and I had _let_ him. I wanted to bring him back to life and torture him until he screamed for mercy from _me_, the one he'd betrayed. I wanted to die.

But the tears would not come, and the madness stayed tied deep within my mind like an angry caged beast with no claws. I was a shivering, senseless ball of worthless flesh for who knows how long, unseeing, uncaring, oblivious to anything outside of myself. I must have eaten because I was not weak, and I must have drunk water because I did not wither and die, but I do not remember doing any of those simple actions. I don't remember much at all in fact. Just the pain, and his voice. _I lied._

The next coherent thing I can recall was Rizzen's delightful sister standing outside my cell. Her mouth was moving so I assume she was talking but I didn't bother to listen. I was ready to roll over on my pallet and turn my back to her when something very strange happened. I had been staring passively at the arrogant drow bitch when her entire body suddenly gave a great heave and her head…exploded, like a melon dropped from a height. Little bloody fragments of skull and brain splattered against the doorframe and floor. It was the kind of sight that should scar a person for life but…well, it couldn't have happened to a nicer person.

I had no time to relish the sight of my tormentor's corpse as a massive, dog-like face suddenly replaced the dead drow, the gnoll snarling at me through the bars. His axe was covered in far more gore than the small drow woman at his feet could have provided, and I was abruptly alert, curious what the hell was going on. An uprising? No, these were not slaves…in fact, I recognized a family seal of sorts on the gnolls armor as the same one I'd seen branded on Vico's arm. So it was vengeance, then. I could understand that.

Several more gnolls where moving around in the outer chamber and a few orcs as well, a large one in particular barking orders in a language I could not understand. The leader's voice suddenly gurgled off into a strained groan as a lightning-quick shadow leaped out at him, slicing the orc's throat wide open in a fount of bright blood. The room erupted into shouts and snarls and hisses, none of which I could make much sense out of as I tried to stay as far back in my cell as possible but still see what was going on. In a flash between the crush of bodies I spotted Rizzen, his nimble body practically dancing circles around the heavy, lumbering enemies, and I realized he must have been watching from those shadows for a while. Yet…he'd let them sneak up and kill his sister before he'd attacked…interesting.

It's difficult to explain my thoughts at that moment. They passed so quickly, yet contained so much, but not all of it is worth repeating. I suppose the best way to phrase it is that I remembered. I remembered Master Nathan and the rest of the family. I remembered why I was really headed through these tunnels and why it was important to keep going. I remembered that Vico was not the reason I should get my ass up off the floor and finish what I'd come to these wretched lands to do.

My internal ramblings were interrupted when Rizzen was knocked hard against my cell door by a lucky backhand slap. I didn't bother wasting time asking the drow because I knew he'd never trust me outside this cage, but simply jerked forward and slipped his keys off of his belt before he could notice. I sidled back to my bed and curled up with the keys tucked safely under my behind. By the time Rizzen stood panting and bloody amid the carnage I had replaced the blank, mindless expression I'd been wearing since my arena battle. The deception worked – Rizzen muttered something under his breath, sent one glance at me then sprinted out into the hallway beyond.

The lock opened with a loud click, but the sound was music to my ears. I was practically trembling with anticipation as I stepped over the bodies and cast an invisibility spell around myself. I knew I was far from free, but I could taste it, so close, within reach. And nothing would stop me.


	6. Remade

**A/N:** Again, a big thank you to all who reviewed. ^.^ I really had fun writing this story and I'm glad others enjoyed it as well. This is the last chapter and I hope it does a fair job of wrapping up Vico and Rynn's relationship. I tweaked a few things in this chapter on purpose - anything to mess with Rynn's head and make things harder on her - so I hope the sequence makes sense. It starts after Rizzen and the PC escape the drow city. For the purposes of this story I have also made Rizzen a bit more...accommodating than he comes across to me in the mod. I'm going to put it this way: he's willing to put up with Rynn's crap because he's as eager to escape with his life as she is.

**Warning:** Language, violence and sexual content.

**Disclaimer:** I claim no ownership of _A Dance with Rogues_ or any characters created by Valine.

* * *

**Remade**

"We're lost, aren't we?"

"Silence, slave."

If letting Vico into my life had been the biggest mistake I'd ever made, then agreeing to work with Rizzen was a very, _very_ close second. "I'm going to take that as a 'yes'," I growled at his back as he eased around yet another bend in the convoluted mess of narrow tunnels. "I should've guessed that you'd be useless out here."

His head snapped around, his crimson eyes flashing in the darkness, and for the third or forth time in the last hour I could tell he was restraining himself from slapping me. I wished he would just stop holding back so I would have my reason to incinerate him. Of course, then I'd be lost, alone and practically naked, surrounded by countless enemies of every kind imaginable, so I suppose some desires work out better in the mind than in practice.

"Need I remind you that it was _your_ insistence that brought us this direction?" the dark elf snarled.

"You'll forgive me if I think it's important to retrieve hundreds of thousands of gold pieces worth of equipment," I hissed back. "Besides, what am I supposed to do? Trust that _you'll_ protect me when everything goes to hell? Not likely."

"I believe I liked you better in your cage."

"And I liked you better when you were groveling at your mommy's feet."

He leaned back from me and shook his head. "You know, little slave, I begin to understand why that male human was so eager to kill you."

Then it was my turn to hold back, and honestly if the drow hadn't kept walking around the corner I probably would have lost it. I doubt he understood just how unstable that topic was for me, but the blind fury that washed over me like a burning wave didn't care if he understood or not. I just wanted to hurt him.

But even as I strode up behind him, still fuming, the terrain under my feet was changing, tilting rapidly upward. I emerged to stand beside the drow in a large cavern, the ceiling so tall that all I could see was darkness and the tips of a few massive, scattered stalactites.

"There," Rizzen raised his arm and pointed over the crest of a hill toward the top of some kind of tower-like structure. "That is the mind flayer's home."

I shook my head and glanced around uncertainly. "This doesn't look anything like the place I passed through before."

The drow sent me a sidelong glance that I translated as an insult to my intelligence. "Don't be a fool. The mind flayer can make you think you are seeing whatever it wishes you to see. In fact…" a pensive frown furrowed his brow, "it's odd that its defenses are down."

I raised an eyebrow at him but he ignored me and kept on toward the tower. Up close, the structure was much larger than it had seemed, more like large mansions stacked atop one another than a tower, and it made me tired just thinking about searching this place for the owner and my stolen equipment.

"Something is wrong," Rizzen interrupted my thoughts with a shake of his head.

"Oh?"

He gave me another condescending look and nodded toward the massive front door. "The front door is wide open, little slave."

I shrugged. "Maybe it's expecting us."

Rizzen shook his head as he checked the doorway for traps. "That could bode even worse for us for several reasons." He disappeared inside for a moment then his long, ebony fingers gestured from the darkness for me to follow. I had a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach, but I ignored it and reluctantly eased into the silent hall within.

The entire structure seemed to have been made of solid marble, the cold walls and floor utterly uninviting and still. Some kind of lichen growing in strategic points on the walls emitted a dim, bluish light, but a faint flicker from around the left-hand bend in the hallway caught our attention, so cautiously Rizzen and I followed it. All we found was an old, sputtering torch lying on the floor in the middle of an empty room.

I crouched over the nearly burned out piece of wood but did not touch it, a silent frown lining my face. Besides it being in the middle of the floor, something about the object struck me as out of place here in this sterile home.

"Slave," Rizzen called softly from the other end of the room. He was gazing intently down at something on the other side of a piece of furniture that could have been anything from a bed to a portable storage closet for all I knew. It was as bland and uninviting as the rest of the place. As I moved to join the dark elf and my eyes fell upon what he had discovered, my blood ran cold in my veins and I drew my dagger without thinking.

"Dhorn," I breathed out.

Rizzen glanced up at me as he stooped over the partially decapitated body of the Dhorn soldier, the human's dark, sticky blood and grayish skin assuring me that he'd been dead for a good amount of time. "You know this man?"

"No," I answered with an uneasy shake of my head, my eyes suddenly flitting nervously around the walls as if more soldiers would jump out at me from thin air. I hadn't told my "Master" my life's story and had no intention of doing so then, but at the same time I knew he needed to understand some things now that the Dhorn were obviously nearby. "The Dhorn are soldiers, my enemies. They…killed my parents, took over my ki…my homeland. They are hunting me but I had no idea they'd follow this far."

I should have known, though, and I felt the fool for coming back this direction. What if there were more of them here? What if the mind flayer had given them information about me? It was too late to flee now, but what if I'd walked us right into a trap? Instead of one enemy, I'd managed to find two!

The dark elf bobbed his head in slow understanding but did not press me for more information. Abruptly he tilted his head to the side and murmured almost too quietly for me to hear, "What is that sound?"

I held my breath as my stomach gave a fearful lurch, but all I could hear was the faint hiss of the dying torch and my own heart thumping in my head. "I don't hear anything," I whispered.

"It's…" he swiveled his head toward the stairs leading up to the next floor, "that way."

I worried my lower lip between my teeth as he crept toward the stairs, but before he could get out of sight, I followed him. That dread in the pit of my stomach was getting worse, and I wasn't about to let my only ally – reluctant though our alliance was – get too far from me. He paused to examine what was obviously blood on the top stairs before moving onto the second floor. It was identical in structure to the one below.

Although I still could hear nothing, Rizzen kept moving with enough confidence to keep me following as he approached another flight of stairs. A dark object sitting amid a small puddle of blood on the bottom step caught my attention but I had to lean in close to identify what exactly it was.

It was a hoof.

Rizzen and I shared a look. "The mind flayer's guards," he whispered very softly before he pressed onward up the stairs. I remembered the massive minotaurs that had been posted at every door. That explained what had nearly hewn the soldier's head from his shoulders. Relief swept through me – so it seemed the Dhorn had been fighting the mind flayer. That was great news to me since if they were busy fighting each other they wouldn't be so worried about fighting me.

We stepped over most of the rest of the one-footed minotaur at the top of the stairs. I lost count of how many floors we climbed, although it probably wasn't as many as it seemed like. Each floor grew increasingly bloody, corpses and blood and body parts everywhere – whatever battle had occurred here seemed to have started from the top down.

Then suddenly my dull human ears picked up the faint sound Rizzen had been tracking. "What…_is_ that?" I whispered as I strained to hear.

The dark elf shook his head as his red eyes scanned what appeared to be the top floor of the tower. I moved as silently as a mouse after him, barely breathing as I listened to the sound grow louder. It sounded like…crunching?

The hallway seemed to wrap in a square around one large central room and it was very obvious that this room was the location of our mystery noise. We stuck to the shadows as we approached the open door leading inside and I found it almost amusing that the door had been purposely propped open with the stacked bodies of a few mangled Dhorn soldiers. Unfortunately, considering that the noise was sounding more and more like chewing as we got closer, I was too nervous that we were about to stumble across some great beast feeding on the corpses to truly enjoy the fate of a few of my hated enemies.

Rizzen made a sign with his hands that I took to mean he should enter the room first, to which I just shrugged. If I'd cared more about his wellbeing, I would have cast invisibility spells on both of us so we could scout safely, but well…clearly, I did not care much. He drew his swords and eased around the corner into the room. I held my breath as the sound stopped suddenly, but I could tell by Rizzen's shadow cast out into the hallway that he was just standing there.

"Oh, look, entertainment. And just when I was starting to get bored."

I'm not sure if Rizzen meant to answer, but before he had a chance I shoved past him into the room, my eyes wide with disbelief as that familiar voice filled my ears. It couldn't be. It wasn't possible. He was _dead_. He _had_ to be dead.

The gore splattered floor and walls, along with the bodies of at least two dozen Dhorn and a few more minotaur guards proved my suspicion that this was the heart of the battle that had raged here. Near the center of the room, a minotaur's corpse was doubled over the body of a Dhorn commander, the creature's ass end poking up into the air. Lounging atop the hairy beast's rear as if it were a great, overstuffed chair sat Vico. Eating an apple.

His body was bare from the waist up, his lower body covered in his black platemail and the breastplate and padding lying in a pile at his feet as if he hadn't bothered to put them on yet. His longsword lay casually across his lap but he didn't appear to have seen battle but rather had arrived after all the carnage around us occurred.

A big grin split his face when I appeared and he watched me as he took another bite of the bright red apple. "Miss me?" he mumbled around the juicy mouthful.

I was…speechless is not even the right word. Had I been of a more excitable nature, I would have fainted. I definitely considered throwing up, but there was no way in hell I'd let either one of those people see me like that.

This couldn't be real. There was no way he had survived…how could he be alive? I'd just accepted that he was dead and now…was I hallucinating? I don't think a knife in the chest could have hurt or shocked me more than seeing him sitting there.

"Aren't you supposed to be dead?" Rizzen's smooth, curious voice cracked through the frozen numbness in my mind and proved that I was not the only one seeing the dark knight.

Vico's eyes turned cold as he swiveled his head toward the dark elf. "Who the fuck are you?" he demanded before taking a last bite from the ravaged apple, tossing the core over his shoulder where it bounced off the boot of a dead Dhorn soldier.

I could feel Rizzen turn his burning eyes on me for a moment as if he expected me to make some formal introduction, but I was far too lost inside myself to do anything more than stare blankly at Vico. "Rizzen," he answered simply.

Vico's eyes had turned back to me by then and he seemed more than happy to completely disregard Rizzen's presence. Since he'd labeled the elf as a non-threat, I guess he thought it would be wiser to focus on me. He didn't grin or try to joke but simply held my stunned stare with a calm, guarded expression. I wish I could say I felt the urge to do something like stab him in the eye or rush into his arms to kiss him, but in all honesty the only thing I felt was disbelief. He just _couldn't_ be alive.

The scar on his chin had faded to a thin line, mostly obscured by dark stubble. His stomach bore no mark to show where my dagger had gutted him, but the skin on his right shoulder was badly scarred from the acid that had eroded it away. It didn't seem to hinder him as he stood and rolled his neck and arms in a languid stretch, shifting his weight as if to show me that stabbing his thigh hadn't done any permanent damage either.

But…there had been so much blood. No one could have survived losing so much. This was impossible. I refused to believe that this was really Vico. It had to be a trick.

"I will go make certain that the owner of this home has been…taken care of," Rizzen said very deliberately as he looked between the two of us through narrowed eyes. Although I was starting to get a grip on myself, I was still too dazed to give a damn as he slipped from the room.

There was a long breathless silence during which we simply stared at each other. I hoped my expression was as unrevealing as his, but I felt a little dizzy and jittery so I was probably pale and sporting a stupidly stunned look upon my face. When he moved suddenly to take a step toward me, I flinched, and although he frowned and hesitated, he kept coming very slowly toward me.

"Snap out of it, Rynn," he ordered in a low voice. "Or…are you just trying to think of the best way to kill me?"

I tried to hold his intense, shadowed stare but when he was within arm's reach, I turned my head stubbornly to the side. By chance, my eyes happened to fall upon a stack of black storage crates in the corner of the room, the tops pried off and revealing some familiar gear within. I could feel the heat radiating from Vico's skin, smell the sweet scent of the apple on his breath as he stood over me, so very close but not touching. I had to get away from him. This couldn't be real. I couldn't let myself believe it.

"I already killed you," I managed under my breath, although my voice lacked the conviction and venom I'd hoped for. Refusing to look at him still, I edged away and walked deliberately toward the crates of my gear.

I could feel his hard stare drilling into my back, but I did a fairly good job of focusing my attention on sorting the mess that had once been tucked neatly into my pack. He watched silently for a few minutes, but I could hear the hard clack of his boots on the marble floor as he crossed the room toward me again. "Rynn…?" his voice sounded concerned but cautious as he raised his hand as if to touch my shoulder. I could see his shadow move, almost feel the warmth of his palm.

I shrugged away from his hand before he could touch me and kept at my task, yanking my leathers out of the bottom of the crate and attempting to bend them back into shape. Bastard mind flayer obviously didn't understand that the armor was probably worth more than my life. I could feel Vico's irritation rolling off of him like an ominous fog.

When he reached for me again, I whirled to face him and stepped around the crates to get distance between us, my back brushing against the cold wall. "Don't you fucking touch me! Don't you dare!" My voice was a strangled half whisper, half scream forced through gritted teeth. I could feel the feverish fingers of madness creeping through my mind and I buried my face in my palms, digging the heels into my eyes as if the purge the image of him. "You can't be real."

"I'm right here, Rynn. You just have to reach out and touch me."

"No," I spat angrily, my hands still covering my face. "I killed you. You're gone. You _have_ to be gone. I can't…I can't…." I wasn't crying – there was no way in hell I was crying – but I was trembling so hard that a sob wretched up out of my throat and for a moment I felt like I was suffocating. I was panicking, frantic and unable to tell the difference between the dancing nightmares flashing through my mind, and reality. Was Vico alive in front of me, or was he the bloody, battered corpse at my feet? Or was this whole life just one terrible dream? Sometimes it felt that way, and all I wanted was to wake up.

A shadow passed over me and I reacted blindly, the cheap, unenchanted dagger Rizzen had given me jumping into my hand like it had a mind of its own. Vico didn't give me a chance to orient on him, his hand practically crushing mine as he twisted the dagger out of my grip and hurled it haphazardly across the room. He shoved me hard against the wall and twisted my arms behind my back, holding them firm in one hand while he gripped my jaw tightly in the other, his much larger, powerful body pressed so hard against mine that I could hardly draw a breath. As he tilted my head back to stare down at me, dark anger rolled behind his eyes, but there was fear there was well and I could hear it in his voice. "Have you lost your fucking mind?"

Probably. The way he held me forced me to look him in the eye and his bruising grip didn't ease up even when I went limp with a shuddering sigh. "You…tried to kill me," I think I said. My vision blurred, my voice trembled, but I refused to acknowledge that I was crying. "You made me…you made me believe…."

I blinked and thought I caught a glimmer of regret in those inky depths, but Vico shook me hard suddenly, his face only a mere inch away from mine. "You really fucking think I wanted to _kill_ you? If I wanted that, you would be dead!"

"You _should_ have killed me." The words felt like they were being cut out of me, the pain so intense that it might as well have been physical. "You said…you never cared at all…."

"Who the fuck do you think you're talking to?" he practically shouted right in my face. "I sure as hell know it's not the man who stood between you and…how many dragons? Who trusted you at his back with those spells of yours and never wondered if you might accidentally miss your target. It can't be the man who always took point because he'd rather take the full force of a trap than let you stumble into it. Not the man who followed your naïve ass around Betancuria for over a month just to make sure you didn't get in over your head, and who went fucking nuts when you vanished on some boat for a week. Not the man who let you beat the shit out of him in front of thousands of people and gave you the chance to get what you said you always wanted. Never cared about you? I don't know who the fuck you're talking about, Rynn, but it sure as shit can't be me!"

I started to sob as he railed, squeezing my eyes shut as the hot tears rained down my cheeks. "You should have just killed me!" I shrieked loud enough to hurt my own ears, but I felt so dead inside that my body went limp again. I didn't care anymore, too broken to want anything but oblivion and silence.

"I hurt you because I had to," he said with another smaller shake to emphasize his words. I sobbed and fought against him, desperate to shut him up, to make him disappear, to make the pain stop. "Don't you fucking get it? I would do anything, _anything_ to keep you safe and alive! If I had to hurt you a thousand times over I would do it in a heartbeat to make sure your ass survives, understand me?"

I stopped struggling, but it wasn't his words that calmed me, but rather the way he said them. There was so much emotion in his voice, so much desperation, that I couldn't help but want to believe him. It's weak to admit it, but I _needed_ to believe him. A shuddering sigh escaped my throat as my sobs ebbed away, and Vico's hand relaxed on my jaw and slid slowly around to caress the nape of my neck. I wriggled my wrists against his bruising grip and he let them go so that I could wrap my arms around his bare waist, my fingernails digging painfully into his back but he didn't complain as he pulled me against him in a crushing embrace. I buried my face in his chest for a moment, breathing in the smell of smoke and leather and apple, and he simply held me for several heartbeats, one hand tangled in my messy hair and the other clutched tightly against my back. For the first time since before we'd stumbled across the mind flayer so many weeks before I felt the tension drain out of my shoulders, the worries lift from my mind. I was no longer a princess or a slave, a leader or a victim, a sorceress or a thief or a murderer…I was just a woman safe in a man's arms. It was a feeling I'd never known existed just a few months earlier, but I'd wanted to curl up and die when it had been taken away.

Vico shifted against me, both of his hands moving to cup my face and tilt it up toward his. He paused to wipe the remains of my tears from my cheeks with his thumbs, his eyes clouded with sadness and something like joy all at once, before he dipped his mouth to mine in a crushing, passionate kiss. I gave over control to him, let him explore me with his mouth and hands as though it had been years since last we'd been together. When he kissed that spot below my ear and whispered my name, I arched myself into him and twined my arms around his neck, eager, almost desperate to feel him against me, around me, within me. I needed to feel…_something_, anything besides anger and hate and loneliness, and maybe if I tried hard enough I could forget, if even for a moment, all of the death and blood that colored my life. I gasped as Vico lifted me up and wrapped my legs around his waist as he pressed me harder into the wall, ready to let him take me right then and there.

"Ahem." Vico's head jerked back from mine to focus a snarl at the annoyed drow standing in the doorway. "I certainly hope for your sake that you have not damaged my property," Rizzen said snidely as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Property?" Vico raised an eyebrow though there was still murder written in his eyes, then turned to look down at my chest and the thin garment I'd stolen from Rizzen's home. Deliberately, he took the shoulder of the top in one hand and with a flick of his wrist tore a large rend in the fabric. "Oops," he said as he stared at Rizzen.

I sighed, torn between frustration and annoyance and a little embarrassment, and still being pinned uncomfortably between Vico and the hard wall left me feeling vulnerable and out of sorts. "He's talking about me, Vico," I explained harshly.

This time both his eyebrows went up as he looked between the dark elf and me for a moment. "She's your…?"

"Slave, yes," Rizzen replied arrogantly with a tilt of his head. "I paid well for her."

I scowled as Vico laughed and eased me down to stand on my own feet again. "Then you got ripped off," he informed the drow. "She's the death of any man who comes near her."

Rizzen frowned and shook his head as if human behavior mystified him. "We should be moving on as quickly as possible," the dark elf said. "Gather what you need and meet me outside." With one last piercing look at Vico, Rizzen vanished from the room.

"So," Vico's expression was expectant, "can I fucking kill him now?"

I sighed again and stepped away from him to resume my search of the crates and give my mind a chance to process everything that was happening. "Not yet," I answered, my voice steadier than I'd expected. "We need him to get to the surface. Once we're back in the open air again," I shrugged, "have at him." There was a long silence while I finished packing my things and I was about to start changing into my armor when I glanced up to see Vico grinning at me.

"You said 'we'," he answered my questioning look with a smug smirk as he sauntered closer to me. "Guess that means you forgive me."

I stared up at him blankly for a long pause. I wondered if he knew how hard he was pushing me with that simple statement, how difficult it was for me to keep my emotions down as I was reminded of what he'd said to me in the arena. "No," I answered with a decisive shake of my head. "I never said that. But…I suppose you still have your uses."

"Oh?" His smirk turned suggestive as he brushed a few stray hairs back from my eyes. "Like…?"

I swallowed the lump in my throat and tried to bury my longing under irritation. "You'll make a decent servant," I replied, then lifted my foot to offer him a worn boot. "Help me with my gear."

"As you command, your highness," he answered in a low, rumbling purr.

He knelt to attend to my boots and I could not completely stifle my satisfaction at seeing him so humbly as my feet. "Good. Now help me out of the rest of this so I can get my own things back on."

The faintest hint of a smile touched the corner of his mouth, but his eyes were smoldering as he removed the flimsy shirt and pants, and it's a wonder my trembling knees didn't buckle just from the looks he was giving me. As soon as I was naked, I turned to reach for my own clothing but Vico's arm looped around my waist, crushing my backside against his front. His rough, demanding hands slid possessively around my breasts, his breath hot against my neck, and my knees did give out then but the dark knight held me up.

"Vico…" I managed around a breathy moan, "this is not exactly the place for…this…." There was blood and bodies everywhere, not to mention that Rizzen could decide to pop back in at any moment.

"I don't care," he whispered against my ear, pausing to nibble a line of kisses down the slope of my shoulder. "I need you, Rynn."

"But…" I shuddered and melted against him, my skin on fire every place he touched, "…what about…."

"It can wait," he insisted as he twisted me around to face him, his powerful arms lifting me to sit on one of the unopened crates. His mouth worked down my neck and chest, his stubble rasping against my sensitive skin and dragging sharp gasps from my throat as I dug my fingernails into his scalp. "All that matters is right now."

I would never forget those words, a lusty whisper against my skin. Our bodies pressed together in an almost violent dance as we both put all of our frustration and anger and passion into that single act. The dead eyes of my enemies were all around us, their blood painted the walls, but that didn't matter. The Dhorn were nothing, the drow but a shadow, and even the family and Master Nathan were nothing but distant ghosts. Tomorrow could wait. What I wanted now, today, was all that mattered.

Would be betray me again? It was possible. Would I ever forgive him? I probably already had. Could I survive if he crushed me again? That was something I refused to think about. Would things stay the same after our mission was over? Odds were we'd die in the process, so that wasn't worth thinking about either.

Did I regret giving myself to Vico?

No way in hell.


End file.
